Undisclosed
by sansbear
Summary: Bonnie Bennett navigates the increasingly treacherous path between vampires and witches. And while she started out clean, she finds herself becoming more immersed in the gray area of right and wrong, love and hate, and loyalty and betrayal.
1. Healing

**A/N**: So here's the thing: I am reuploading "Undisclosed". The style bugged the crap out of me, so this is the edited version. I've decided to follow more my plot than the show, so there will be a slight deviation in setup. My sincerest apologies to those of you who reviewed, alerted, and added to their favorites-I want to produce something of some quality, and I feel the best way to do this is to run up this hill again with a lighter load and longer chapters. This is a gamble, and I hope the reader enjoys.

**Disclaimer: **I disclaim any ties to this show and in no way seek to gain anything from it.

* * *

Healing

In the spring they used to go swimming in the Powell River. They tied their inner tubes to a tree and floated for hours or they climbed along the rock. Elena would sun bathe while Bonnie swam beneath the falls and flattened her back against the rock. The water fell like a shimmering sheet of glass. The sound soothed her. Elena always thought she drowned and Bonnie waited until the pitch of fear entered her voice before appearing.

Grams drove them to the river. Grams showed them the falls. One spring she drove them to Cedar Creek Falls. That was the summer before high school. She remembered the hike through the forest. Tall trees fanned out above them. The leaves were light green and dark green and grass green. They made a game of classifying all the kinds of green they saw. Grams called a patch of moss 'puke green'. The woods echoed their laughter. The sunlight winked at them as they jumped over fallen trunks and scrambled down over rocks and just like that there was thunder like she never heard.

It was beautiful. White water rushed over jagged black rocks and collected in clear green pool. A rock rose from the shallows above the pool. Cedar branches stretched out over the falls and above them the sky was blue. Grams showed them a path behind the falls. Elena had longer legs so she made it to the top before Bonnie. She found her friend looking along the undergrowth.

"Help find me a rock," Elena said.

Bonnie squinted. "Why?"

"So I can see how deep the water is. You want to jump in and break your neck?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes and bent down. Elena was the practical one. She thought about these things. Bonnie didn't because she never thought of jumping off a rock into water.

Elena found a rock and threw it straight down. She looked to Grams.

"You're okay, girl. Go ahead and jump."

With Grams approval, Elena took a deep breath, stepped back, and took a flying leap into the air. She tucked her knees in and yelled "Geronimo!" before barreling into the water.

Bonnie leaned out over the hot black rock they chose as a base and waited for Elena to bob up. Sure enough a black head broke the surface and a wide wet grin beamed up at her.

"Oh my God Bon! It's so cool! Come on!"

Bonnie grinned despite her apprehension. The falls at Powell River were short but these required them to climb and tower almost a hundred feet above the pool. Grams held her sun hat as she looked up at her. Grams said it was okay. Elena jumped like a fool. She could do this.

Bonnie stood and edged back. She took in a couple of gulps of air. She was running and then there was nothing beneath her but air and the spray of the falls. She grabbed her knees before cool water blasted her body. Her ears popped. Her eyes opened. As deep as she was it was clear. The bottom was rocky. Above her she saw the falls hit the surface, saw small fishes wave like a silver flag. Elena's legs kicked back and forth.

It was so quiet except for the thunder. Even at the bottom she heard the power. The light green of the water grew lighter. She needed to breathe and tell Elena. When she broke the surface, gasping and sputtering, Elena was screaming her name and Grams was in the water.

"What?" she yelled.

"I hate when you do that! I thought you hit your head or drowned or something! Jesus Bonnie," Elena yelled back.

Bonnie splashed Elena. "I'm part fish, right Grams?"

Grams exhaled. "Yes, baby. But how about we stick to the human part of you today, okay?"

So Bonnie floated on her back while Elena sunbathed. Grams joined her.

"Bonnie, you like the water?"

Bonnie said yes and Grams went back to being silent.

"You know, this place is a healing place. You let the water move the worry from you or you can jump off that rock and all the weight you brought with you just disappears into the spray."

"But doesn't the spray become the pool? I mean, it's all the same water so aren't we just, like, floating in people's troubles?"

Grams laughed. "Maybe. But just like you never step in the same river twice, you never float in the same trouble. It's not yours."

Bonnie smiled and shifted to tread water. Grams had a special way of floating. She seemed to be resting right on the surface.

"Is that why you brought us here? You had some trouble?"

Grams grinned. "No trouble. Just wanted you to know, that's all. This is a healing place."

_This is a healing place._

The moon hung high and full. The foam from the falls glittered white in the blackness of night. The pool was a dark rippling mirror. Bonnie sat on the diving rock. She contemplated stripping down to her underwear and letting the fall strip her of troubles.

Troubles. Her mind shifted to the tomb. She held a hand in front of her face. If she wanted to, she could snap her fingers and there would be fire. She did what most people were unable to do. She had power, but not enough to save...

"I would give up being a witch if you would just come back. Just come back Grams. It's unbearable," she whispered.

A slight breeze rustled the leaves. It was late. Bonnie started to stand when a man burst from the woods and splashed into the pool, frantic. He turned this way and that and started for the exposed rock of the waterfall. Another figure appeared on the rock jutting out of the pool. Moonlight caught the silver of a ring. Bonnie froze.

Damon.

His head whipped toward the man. A pointed grin flashed in the dark. Bonnie crouched low to the rock. The staccato of speech reached her. Damon toyed with the man as he struggled up the rocks. She slinked back to the shelter of the trees.

Desperation gave the man enough strength to pull himself to the drop. In the span of a breath Damon stood above him.

"You haven't been watching the news, have you?" Damon reached down and grabbed the man by the throat. He lifted him to eye level. "There's an animal in these parts."

Damon bit him so deeply the man's scream turned into instant gurgling. Horror paralyzed her from acting. She had never seen a vampire feed. There was nothing romantic about it.

Damon shook the man like a doll as he drained him. Done, he tossed the body and threw back his head. He swayed for a moment. Blood and gristle matted his face. Bonnie watched him bend and wash his face. He hummed a little song as bloody drops fell.

She imagined the body floating in the pool she swam as a child. She saw the white foam turn pink from all the blood. Rage drained the horror from her body,

Bonnie rose and stepped out onto the rock. Damon paused. She lifted a hand and he lurched into the air, flame crawling up his legs and spreading across his back. He writhed in midair, screaming.

"Bonnie, this is a healing place."

Gram's voice reverberated through her skull. She winced. "No, Grams. There is no such place," Bonnie whispered. With a flick of her wrist Damon hurtled to the pool below.

A few hours later Damon pulled himself to the bank. He fell back, face to the sky. He had caught her words as he fell, felt the release as her heel scraped the rock to flee.

"What a bad little witch," he murmured before passing out.

* * *

Bonnie stood in the doorway. No one was home to greet her, per usual. She shut the door and rested a moment. This was home—silence and dust motes in sunbeams. There was note tacked to the foyer mirror. Her father apologized for not being home to greet her, there was a meeting, dinner later, maybe…Bonnie crumpled the note. Promises. She was sick of them.

The first thing she noticed in her room was the pungent smell of dying flowers. Daisies, to be exact, arranged in bundles of five around the room.

Way back, when they learned about the value of certain things like gummy bears and staying up an extra half hour, Bonnie decided that daisies should be their secret currency. Whenever they had a secret to share, two daisies. To apologize, five daisies. It wasn't her favorite flower, but it was a nice flower, wild but not so wild that they couldn't find some in a neighbor's flower garden.

The last time she spoke to Elena, it was at the funeral.

Elena separated from the crowd and started towards her with a pained expression. Bonnie turned from the open grave, ready to take comfort in the arms of her dearest and oldest friend when Stefan appeared at Elena's side, grim as ever, the sun making him look severely pale.

Bonnie inhaled sharply. They were a few feet from each other. Elena wrapped her arm around her middle and looked at Bonnie carefully.

"Bonnie, I'm—"

"I know. You're sorry." Bonnie replied.

Elena darted her eyes to Stefan then back to Bonnie. "I…if I knew…"

Bonnie shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it with one of them standing next to you."

She looked to Stefan then started. Beyond him, standing at the edge of the woods, was Damon. Her hands started to shake and the world went hazy. Acid burned her throat. Elena must have sensed what was happening because grabbed Bonnie's hand.

"Bonnie, talk to me."

Bonnie glanced to the woods. There was nothing but shadows and trees.

"Go. Go home. I don't want you here," Bonnie withdrew her hand, "I don't want you here, Elena."

Elena stared at her, uncomprehending. Silent tears started to roll down her cheeks. Bonnie resisted the urge to touch her own face. The world was watery.

Bonnie looked to Stefan. Power hardened her tongue. "Take her home."

He shot a quick, sad glance at Bonnie before taking Elena's arm and gently pulling her away.

"Stefan—" Elena protested but she went with him, looking back at Bonnie until the sun blocked her out.

Bonnie breathed a heavy sigh and drew back from the memory. A dull ache sat behind her eyes. It had been a month since the funeral. A lot happened in a month. Maybe enough to move her to speak to her friend.

She grabbed her cell phone and keys and turned to leave when she saw her curtains billowing in the breeze. Curious, she went to the window. It was pulled all the way up. The sill was damp with dew. Her eye caught a glint of purplish black. She looked outside and there was a large crow sitting on the branch of a birch tree across the street.

_A warning_. The beady black eyes bore into her.

"Okay," Bonnie said aloud. She shut the window.

The crow cocked its head, let out a screeching caw, and took flight.

* * *

The doorbell rang through the Gilbert house. Elena dropped her fork and bounced off the stool.

"I'll get it!"

She strode to the door and swung it open. Her customary greeting died on her lips.

"Hey," Bonnie said. An uncomfortable smile creased her face.

Elena just stared.

Bonnie fingered the strap of her purse. "You know, you should use the peephole."

Elena blinked. "I haven't heard anything from you in a month."

"Yeah."

"A lot has happened."

"I figured."

"There's a vampire slayer."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Elena nodded. "Alaric Saltzman. He's our new history teacher."

They stared at each other. Elena's eyes started to glaze over. "I made banana pancakes. There's some strawberry syrup too. I…I thought maybe you'd be back."

Bonnie smiled as she stepped inside. "Maybe some of that witchy stuff rubbed off on you."

"So how is Stefan?"

They were in Elena's bedroom, having a primping fest. Elena stopped filing her nails. Bonnie concentrated on applying coral polish to her pinky finger. When Elena remained silent, Bonnie glanced over to her friend.

"What?" she set her hands in front of a fan.

"You don't have to ask about him if you don't want to."

Bonnie lifted a shoulder. "You want to tell me. You puff your cheeks every now and then."

Elena rolled her eyes and went back to filing. A companionable silence filled the room.

"I have to tell you something. But I don't know how you're going to handle it."

Bonnie hopped up onto the bed and sat across from Elena. Both girls sat Indian-style, their knees knocking. Bonnie schooled her face into a blank mask and waited. Elena inhaled deeply.

"The tomb didn't close. The vampires escaped."

Each word sank into her like a knife. There was initial pain but then…nothing. Her eyes focused beyond Elena's troubled face to that night.

It wasn't enough. A life wasn't enough to close the tomb. Emily's strength shocked could she be so stupid as to believe they had the magic to lift and refit a curse that powerful? Perhaps they did. Maybe she slipped in casting. She had to. Gram's death had to be for something. It had to mean something. _The words, the words, what were the words, the words…_

"Bonnie!"

She gasped and jolted backwards. Elena grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. There was a crash and a thump and an "oomph" as both girls tumbled off the bed.

"Ouch," Bonnie groaned, rubbing her head. Elena was the first one up. She helped Bonnie onto her feet. Papers, pillows, books, everything not nailed down was on the floor. The bed was askew. Smoke turned the room hazy.

"What happened?" Bonnie whispered.

Elena picked up a book and a couple of papers. "I told you about…" she caught herself, "I told you the latest news and you went into some sort of trance. All my candles flared to life and then everything levitated."

Bonnie went to the desk. Yellow wax stained the cherry mahogany and dotted the rug. All she remembered was Elena telling her about the tomb vampires.

"I don't understand," Bonnie said.

Elena set down more books and put a hand on her shoulder. "You were speaking Latin, Bon. Kinda sounded like what you and Grams were saying outside the tomb."

Bonnie read the concern. It had become a constant companion ever since Stefan arrived and Damon cawed his way into Mystic Falls.

"Crap. I haven't been in town two hours and we're back to the supernatural."

The tension broke with Elena's easy smile. "Since you made this mess, want to wiggle your nose or snap your fingers or something?"

Bonnie laughed. "Yeah, or something."

* * *

It was well after ten when Elena dropped her home. Rain fell in heavy, blistering drops and Bonnie screeched as she ran from the car to the cover of the porch. She waved to Elena and watched her pull carefully from the curb before entering the house. She shook the rain from her hair and shrugged off Jenna's old red raincoat.

"Ah, look at Little Red Riding Hood, all soaked from her travels."

Bonnie stilled for a second, and then set the coat on a hook.

"And you're the Big Bad Wolf, right? You already bit me once." Bonnie turned to find Damon standing on a stair, a glass of brandy in hand.

He grinned and took a sip. "My, my, my, aren't we saucy and dare I say, a wee bit clever?"

Damon eyed her slowly. She stood relaxed in her flimsy peach camisole ridiculous black shorts. He was used to her hair down but this ponytail look made her appear somewhat mature. As did the lack of make-up and unfazed gaze she set on him.

"So, Bonnie, how did you spend your vacay?"

Bonnie slipped her hands in her pockets. "Brushing up on my heritage, visiting old haunts, stuff like that."

Damon jumped off the bottom step and drained the rest of the brandy. "Do any grilling recently?"

"No. Did you?"

Damon laughed. "Oh Bonnie. You know, I like this. Elena gets exasperated, Stefan just starts oozing brood, and dinner starts screaming for help and praying. Not a lot of people I can banter with."

"Glad to be of service, Damon. You know the way out."

Bonnie passed him and went into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator. She wanted a grilled cheese suddenly. With soup.

"Aren't you curious how I got in?"

She sighed. "Let me guess, my father opened the door, you compelled him or something and here you are. Not that hard to figure out."

She took out some cheese. Damon watched her search for a can of soup.

He sat on the counter next to the breadbox. Bonnie pursed her lips. "That leather jacket was vintage. 1956. A very good year."

A flicker of aggravation wrinkled her brow. "What do you want Damon? An apology? I'm sorry for your jacket. Now goodbye, have a nice night." She reached in the breadbox and retrieved a loaf of bread. Not a hair trembled.

The one thing he could count on was intimidation. He barely held himself in check and any sane human could taste that, they would be on their knees, cowering and begging for mercy. Bonnie continued to prep for her grilled cheese and soup dinner. Her hand didn't even twitch when Damon slid a knife from the block.

She stopped to look at him and he passed it to her handle first.

"You tried to kill me," Damon went on conversationally as Bonnie began making the sandwich.

"I obviously didn't succeed."

Even when her head smacked against the cool brushed metal of the refrigerator, Bonnie didn't understand. And then she felt pressure along her body. Her eyes cleared to glare into frigid blue circles. An icy hand clutched her throat, keeping her in place. The other took her wrist and yanked it behind her. She bit back the pain.

"Get—"

"Shh. Struggle and I'll pull your arm from its socket."

Damon loosened his grasp just enough to shift his hand over so he could trail his nose along her neck. Her vein pulsed in steady rhythm to her heart. Even now, when his teeth grazed the smooth, thin skin, there was no fear.

"The last witch who tried to kill me," Damon slid his hand down to rest a firm hand over her heart, "I ripped _this_ out."

He examined her face to gage the impact of his words. Bonnie watched him steadily, unaffected. But there, in her eyes, was a glimmer of rage. He was reminded of the flames engulfing his body.

Then it all changed. He was warm. As though he gorged himself on the blood of a fresh, nubile triathlete (preferably tall, shapely, with a 34-C rack). Damon dropped his hands at the same time he dropped his face close to hers.

"What did I say about trying to kill me?"

"Something about my heart and ripping," Bonnie said.

Damon didn't even hear the words, just read her lips. Those lips. Close up and gasping, they were attractive, even in their crookedness. He stared at her face, seeing her outside the threat she posed. His hand was still on her chest. The warmth flared into heat. He wanted to bite her, but the killing instinct was gone. He wanted to bite her but—

Damon reared back. He squeezed her neck. "Don't do it again."

Before Bonnie could take her next breath, Damon was gone, her grilled cheese was burnt, and for the first time in a month, Bonnie Bennett shook.


	2. Assumptions

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews. Enjoy.

* * *

Assumptions

Damon picked through the library. All the powerhouses were there in cloth and leather—Yeats, Keats, Wharton, Joyce, Crane, James, Dickens, Steinbeck, Whitman—but he bypassed them all. He needed a distraction. It had been three days since his confrontation with the Bennett witch and the fixed beating of her heart still thrummed in his palm. Some fucking spell she wove, no doubt.

A leather bound edition caught his eye. _The_ _Spanish Inquisition: A History_. Damon smirked. The terrorizing department did need some revitalization. Spying his favorite leather chair, he poured himself a glass of scotch, another glass of O-neg, and sat down to enjoy an entertaining read.

"Hey."

Damon ignored the entreaty.

"The Spanish Inquisition again?"

He snapped the book shut. Stefan stood by the fireplace. Damon didn't think it was possible to look any more serious than Stefan habitually did, but he always had a problem underestimating the runt.

Damon sighed. "What is it?"

"I want to thank you for…" Stefan frowned.

"For saving your weak ass," Damon finished, picking up his book again. "Okay, moment over. I'm busy expanding my mind."

Stefan darted his eyes to side table next to Damon. He caught the movement and chuckled. "This new Stefan is a bore. All nobility and no spine," Damon reached for the glass of blood, "it's O-neg. Fresh from the factory."

Stefan turned from the offered glass but not before Damon heard the snarl of hunger. He was an evil bastard most of the time, but he knew what human blood turned Stefan into, and he knew that it could get dangerous real quick for everyone involved, especially Elena.

"I thought you went back to woodland creatures," Damon said.

"The blood doesn't taste the same," Stefan shook his head, "it's not as rich…as thick."

"You want to come back into the fold, okay. But you need to do it slowly, deliberately. And not by drinking off my supply," Damon eyed Stefan.

"I apologized for that."

"I didn't believe you."

Stefan rubbed the back of his neck. "I have to get ready for Miss Mystic Falls."

"Don't get squirrel blood on that dress, Stefanie."

Damon was treated to one of Stefan's woebegone expressions. Man, he hated being a brother. It would be fantastic if these nagging brotherly connections dissolved.

Damon stood and rolled his shoulders. He drank down the bandy and left the O-neg on the side table. "I can't help you here. I don't have a conscience, remember?" He stopped at the edge of the room and looked at Stefan. The glass was in his hand and his face flickered between restraint and resignation.

"Tell Elena. Or I will," Damon said. He stalked off. This was not the kind of distracting he wanted.

* * *

Bonnie ran between touching up Caroline's make-up and forcing Elena to wear some.

"No blush. And I don't like how heavy lipstick makes my lips feel. How about some gloss instead?"

Bonnie closed her eyes to calm her nerves. "Elena Gilbert. When I come back into this room, have a shade selected and applied. I am so serious."

Elena wrinkled her face. "I don't even want to do this." She stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was curled, some of it gathered back in a chignon. Her blue dress hung on a hanger and her shoes sat near it. When did she stop caring about dresses and make-up and high-heeled shoes and pageants?

Bonnie appeared in the image and Elena smiled a little. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm missing my mom."

"I know," Bonnie hugged Elena's shoulders.

"Thank God you're back Bonnie."

They sat in silence for a moment before Elena stood up and went to the dress. "I think my allotted five minutes are up."

"Shit," Bonnie scrambled for her case, "Caroline is going to do that high-pitch squealing yelling thing. Ugh. See you in five minutes."

She ran out the room, pushed past bustling women with perfume and curlers and glitter, turned a corner and smacked right into the last person she hoped to share physical contact.

"Bonnie," Damon said.

His grin instantly irritated her. "Goodbye Damon."

She made a move around him but he cut her off. She fainted to the left but he read the move. They did this for a full thirty seconds before Bonnie stood still and stared patiently at him.

"Yes?"

"Is our girl presentable?"

Bonnie frowned. "Look, whatever you plan on doing, save it. Elena's upset enough as it is."

"What if I want to congratulate her or, shocker, be a friend?"

Bonnie snorted. "You? A friend? Don't make me gag."

Her eyes glinted. "I can't stop you from going in, but I'm warning you, don't mess with her."

Damon was genuinely amused. He bent his head a little. "And if I do? What? You'll put a spell on me?"

Bonnie locked eyes with him. "Worse."

She hurried around him and he let her go. He had to give her props—she didn't back down. Damon followed her weaving back with a grin.

The ceremony had begun by the time Caroline released her. The girls lined up along the balcony and Caroline pulled her along the hall, squeezing her hands.

"Bonnie, I am so nervous," Caroline whispered.

"You're going to break my fingers."

Carolina relaxed her grip. "Oh, sorry. I'm just so nervous. I want this so badly."

Bonnie laughed. "And I think you're going to get it. But don't look like you're going to vomit all over the place. Or on me."

Caroline's eyes went wide and she ran to a mirror hanging in the hall. She patted her face and pinched her cheeks. "Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale," she recited.

Bonnie left her at the staging area, giving her one last hug. "You look beautiful Caroline."

Caroline flashed her a modest grin. "Don't I?"

They shared a laugh, gave each other a polite high-five and Bonnie hurried back to one of the rooms to change into a simple black dress and run a brush through her hair. By the time she reappeared downstairs, the dance had started.

There was a crowd but she managed to wedge herself between an elderly couple and some girls for an unobstructed view. She immediately found Elena and smiled.

Then the smile fell from her face when Elena stepped forward to meet Damon.

Bonnie looked for Stefan but he was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes drifted back to the couple twirling around each other. There was some silent communication in the way they almost touched but drifted apart, only to come close again. Damon gazed down on Elena with the full-force of his charm and Elena gazed back, mesmerized yet confused.

A candle flickered to life beyond them and Bonnie immediately put it out. She heard a whoosh and some commotion coming from the kitchen. She needed to leave but was rooted to the spot. She didn't know what was more monstrous—the fact that Elena and Damon were dancing some antiquated courting number or the love that positively poured from Damon's eyes.

The moment the music ended Elena rushed off the floor and Damon followed. Bonnie stepped after them. She found Elena alone, sitting on a cushioned bench, her face in her hands. Bonnie sat next to her, mind on alert for Damon.

Elena lifted her head. Her eyes were wet and worry pinched her face.

"What is it?" Bonnie asked.

Elena shook her head. "I don't want to involve you."

"Anymore than I already am? Come on, Elena."

Instead of talking Elena stood and started to pace. The fabric of her dress rustled with each step. She passed and from across the room Bonnie saw Damon approach.

"Is this about Damon?"

Elena continued pacing. "No. This is about Stefan. And how he lied to me."

Bonnie grabbed Elena's arm.

"What is going on Elena?"

"Elena," Damon said, coming up behind her.

His eyes flicked to Bonnie then to Elena. He laid a gentle hand on her upper arm. "I have news."

"Where is he? What's happening?" Elena asked. Bonnie was forgotten. Damon drew her aside and Bonnie watched them, the sound of the party and the string quartet dulling their conversation.

Damon took Elena's hand and they started towards the back. Whatever happened was serious enough to get Elena to do something idiotic like go off with Damon.

Bonnie got her coat and hastily ran out to the back. Night had fallen. She scanned the area and saw the flash of Elena's dress moving into the woods. Bonnie started walking briskly when there was a scream.

Elena started to run and Bonnie ran after her. She slowed when she heard Elena's voice, pleading.

Her heart pounded in her ears. Elena and Damon ringed in a feral Stefan. His face was horrifying. There was blood smeared all over his mouth. It dripped from his chin.

"Stefan," Elena exclaimed.

He snarled.

"Brother," Damon said. Stefan turned his attention to him.

"It's okay," Damon said and reached out an arm. Stefan hurled Damon into the nearest tree.

"Stefan," Elena yelled, angry.

Bonnie stared at Stefan, this creature, this unknown. His eyes were devoid of any familiarity or humanity.

_He will rip out her throat_, she thought. Stefan grabbed his head in agony.

The first thing she learned after the grief ceased to numb her was how to hurt. The grimoire detailed how to incapacitate a supernatural being by continuously popping the blood vessels in the brain. Their healing factor made what would be a silent, nearly painless death for a human excruciating torture for a vampire. She thought of bubble wrap. She thought of popping each one in their rows, slowly, endlessly.

Stefan sank to his knees. The pitch of his screaming changed into the beginning of a human sob. Bonnie blinked. Stefan fell forward onto his hands, panting.

Elena and Damon stared at her with varying degrees of alarm. Bonnie stumbled back. The movement broke them out of stillness. Elena went to Stefan. Damon went to the body slumped near a fallen trunk.

"She's still alive," he said just as red and blue lights approached. Elena pulled Stefan to his feet.

"You have to go," Bonnie told them. Elena whispered something to Stefan and they were gone. It was just her and Damon and a barely alive girl.

Sheriff Forbes broke upon the scene, going straight to Damon. Bonnie blocked out the conversation. She started back to the house.

"Bonnie."

She stopped. Damon was a few feet from her. She wondered what she looked like if he, Mr. Immaculate, looked disheveled.

"What?"

He frowned. Red and blue lights lit the air around them. The voices of concerned guests became nearer.

"Thank you."

Bonnie shook her head. "A girl almost died tonight because your brother went animal. Don't thank me."

She turned and left. When she got home she was too exhausted to change out of her clothes so she crawled into bed and went to sleep in her party dress.

* * *

Bonnie walked into the Grill. It had been days since she stepped out of the house. She was sick of the lack of food in the fridge and freezer. She was sick of the silent walls and the same shows on television and her own company.

The Grill was busier than usual. Bonnie ran a hand through her hair self-consciously. Patrons lined the bar and wait staff moved between full tables. This was supposed to be a quick grab and go.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Elena sitting at a table, on the verge of a breakdown. She spotted Bonnie and relief flooded her. Bonnie started forward. The cheeseburger and fries could wait.

Stefan appeared at Elena's side and Bonnie halted. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked down on her with such loving kindness it made Bonnie sick. She walked past them to the exit.

Bonnie got into her car and after a few minutes, directed the car onto the road out of town.

Goosie's was her first choice for great comfort food but the Grill was closer and had a lot less shady characters. The diner was an old-fashioned silver dining car with steps leading up to the entrance. The parking lot was a dusty rectangle. The woods behind, the highway in front, and the afternoon sky above were the only backdrops.

Bonnie scouted the parking lot. Two motorcycles, a mini van, a beat up looking Jeep, and a muscle car. Not a busy time. She'll sit in, maybe get a fried chicken platter and peruse Emily's grimoire.

The bell tinkered when she entered and the waitress peeked her head out from the kitchen.

"Baby girl just sit any place you want. I'll be with you in two shakes."

Bonnie took a seat in a booth by the windows. There was a family of five three booths ahead of her. The parents were talking while two older kids sent texts. A small child peeked at her over the back of the seat. She waved. The kid smiled shyly and waved back.

The waitress came up to her table. "Alright baby girl, what'll it be today?"

Bonnie gave her order and sat back. It was good to be out of town, even if town was twenty minutes away. Elena with her stricken face blocked the view of the road. She sighed. Whatever it was, it wasn't her problem.

"Every time you sigh you lose a pint of blood."

Bonnie jerked towards the voice. Damon sat facing her, both elbows on the counter. He smiled lazily.

"What are you doing here?" Bonnie asked.

Damon showed her a fork and a half eaten plate of cherry pie. "I had a craving for something sweet. Had I known you were out, I would have foregone the pie."

Bonnie clamped down on the instinct to leave. She ignored him and pulled out the grimoire.

"Reading a bestseller, huh," Damon said. He now sat across from her in the booth. Bonnie counted her breaths and concentrated on the words on the page. He looked at her as he ate.

"Are you looking up ways to be more competent?"

"I'm actually looking up a vampire repellant."

"Ooooh, bitchy. I like it."

Bonnie slammed the book shut. "What do you want?"

Damon set down the fork. He stared straight at her. The waitress came with her order and set a bloody plate of steak in front of him.

"Thank you Janie. Hey, think I can get a Bloody Mary?"

Janie put a hand on her hip. "You got the stuff for one of them things?"

Damon grinned and Janie waved him away. "Yeah, yeah, it's comin'."

"What do I want?" Damon repeated as he cut into the steak. He paused and stared into space. "Let's see. I want to kill someone. No. I want to torture them. Make 'em sweat. I want this certain someone to be in a perpetual state of confusion. I want them to wonder, 'Is he being genuine or is he fucking with me?' Yeah," Damon nodded at the book, "if there's a reversal spell or whatever in there for that, let me know."

Bonnie sipped her milkshake. Was this what it was like to play cat and mouse? Damon chewed with rapture.

"I don't wonder about you Damon," she said.

Damon wagged the knife at her. "You assume I was referring to our traditional roles. Don't be so myopic. It's unattractive."

Bonnie gave up and cut into her chicken. She kept her eyes from him. There was a full five minutes of silence when Damon spoke.

"I thought witches only drank brews and the souls of children," Damon said.

"Only on Wednesdays," Bonnie replied.

She didn't see the grin that reached his eyes. When she ventured a look he was done and Janie brought the Bloody Mary.

"How long do you think we can be civil?"

Bonnie set her fork down and settled back. "Why?"

"I notice that our mutual friend is upset. She seems affected by the absence of her bosom buddy."

Bonnie said nothing and instead opened the grimoire.

"Oh no, don't tell me Betty and Veronica are fighting. It's not about Archie, is it?"

"Emily had a mute spell, want to try it?"

Damon stirred his Bloody Mary. "I've been alive nearly two hundred years and I can read people better than anyone."

"Yeah? Can you read that I want you to disappear?"

"You're angry Elena has confided more in me than in you," he leaned forward. The surprise flush of blood was worth the careful set up. Damon smiled. "I've never been envied before. It's…it's actually flattering."

"You're delusional," Bonnie said.

"Am I? You know anything about what's going on? About her mother, about the tomb vampires, about Jeremy, that annoying specimen of teenage angst?"

The only factor keeping the tears from blurring her vision was Damon's obvious glee.

Bonnie left money for the bill and stood up.

"It only took a grand total of ten minutes of your company to completely disgust me. Congratulations," she said.

She strode out the diner into an orange and blue afternoon. A cool breeze ruffled her shirt as she walked to her car. Damon's words buzzed through her brain, touching off minute flares of ire. If there weren't witnesses, she would have his head implode, right when he smiled after that envy comment.

Bonnie glanced up and saw Damon leaning on the passenger side door.

"Oh my God," she muttered and rushed to the driver side.

"You're a shitty friend, you know."

Bonnie slammed her things on the roof the car. "I can't be her friend! How can I be when her boyfriend is a vampire and his unhinged vampire brother tried to kill me and is responsible for my grandmother's death? I don't know what you want from me, Damon, but stop harassing me."

The air shimmered with heat.

"You know better than to do that," Damon said. Bonnie gathered her things and slipped behind the wheel. The car shook. Damon snatched the keys from her hand.

"Hey," she exclaimed when he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him.

"Now, let's try this again. Elena views you as her bestest friend in the whole entire world. Dumb, I know," he said with a quick grin.

"She's had to detox a vampire. She's dealing with a heightened level of drama and as much as my relaxed, charming demeanor lends her some ease, she needs you."

"Why do you care?"

"Because, Bonnie, as much as you hate me and as much as I would lo-oove to snap that judgmental neck of yours, Elena is the one thing we have in common. She's unhappy, I want to fix that, and you're the key."

Bonnie searched his face. He was serious.

"You love her," Bonnie said.

The grip on her hand lessened. His eyes narrowed. The air became humid. "Assumptions make an ass out of you and not me."

A cloud passed in front of the sun. The car darkened. The blue of his eyes turned electric and she had the distinct and sharp fear of sliding towards something shadowy and scalding.

"I'm not assuming, am I?" she asked.

There was a breeze. Bonnie stared at an empty seat. A blue muscle car roared out of the parking lot and squealed towards Mystic Falls. Bonnie leaned into the driver seat. The windows were opaque with steam. She reached for her milkshake. It was completely melted.

So much for comfort food.


	3. Myths

Disclaimer: I only own the computer I wrote this on.

* * *

Myths

Bonnie really meant to do it. She wanted to do. Elena expected her to do it, for Stefan. But when she closed her eyes and the energy flowed from her, she thought of Damon. She thought of the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into her neck. She thought of the compromises she had to make to be here, in this study, three sets of eyes on her. So Bonnie muttered a stream of nonsensical Latin phrases and took apart the watch, then put it back together.

The guilt was consuming the moment Elena hugged her. Talk shifted to the meeting with Isobel and Bonnie moved to sit by the fireplace. Soon she was alone. The fire flickered and grew in intensity. If Isobel used the watch against the tomb vampires, Stefan might get caught in the crossfire. Elena would never forgive her. That was the one hand. The other was buckling under the pressure made by a vampire who viewed her daughter as little more than a chess piece, and that she could not do.

Bonnie rubbed her face. Glass clinked. She turned to watch Damon recline in an armchair. He swirled a glass of brandy and sniffed it.

"1896. We have a cask in the family dungeon."

Bonnie faced the fire. "Is that where you keep the food? Chained up in the dungeon?"

"No, we keep it in these nifty plastic bags in a freezer."

Bonnie fell silent. Damon noticed she resorted to this muteness whenever something piqued her sense of piety. That in and of itself turned him quiet. His gaze strayed to the thick black brown hair fanning her shoulders. A Yeats poem came to mind, two actually, one about yellow hair, the other about a brown penny.

He drank down the Brandy. It cleared the nonsense to remind him to stick to his basic instinct—witches were notorious for holding grudges. Bonnie had a few and then some.

The firelight grew brighter. The room grew warmer. Her hair took on the glow of liquid gold. Damon decided to fill another glass with brandy. Bonnie glanced up as something nudged her shoulder.

"Don't tell your Dad," Damon said. Bonnie took the drink and tensed when he lowered himself to sit beside her. The light shone on the polished leather of his boots. The glass was blocky, heavy. The brandy was a dark brown and smelled like damp.

"I didn't have time to poison it, if that's why you're inspecting it."

Bonnie threw him a look. He was propped up on his arms, his head angled to one side, his eyes direct on her face.

She was suddenly aware that they were alone, that they sat before a warm fire, that her knee was inches from colliding with the fabric of his jeans.

The future forked out before her, quite clear. Peace, civility, possibly friendship. She twirled the brandy. Friendship with Damon. It was an oxymoron. Why couldn't she be one of those witches with prescient powers? Life would be infinitely less complicated.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Not in the least," he answered. Bonnie grinned. She set the glass next to him and stood.

"Thanks," Bonnie said before exiting.

The flames died down. The room grew darker. He almost missed it while musing on her odd little exit—the erratic heartbeat. She lied about something. He was intrigued but not enough to investigate tonight.

Elena wandered into the study and sat next to Damon, examining his face before looking at the fire.

"Are you ready to meet Mommie Dearest?"

Elena lifted a shoulder. "Not really. She's alive and she couldn't care less about me. You know about that."

Damon cocked an eyebrow. "Ouch. And I thought we were friends."

He caught her grin and grinned himself. He felt her relax and was glad. Sitting with Elena was simple. Doing anything with Elena was simple. Maybe it had something to do with the doppelganger thing or maybe he genuinely…well.

"This is the most silent you've been. What's going on?"

"I'm thinking about you," he said. Elena rolled her eyes.

"Think about something else. Like promising me you will stick to the plan."

Damon placed his hand on his chest. "I promise not to kill your mother. Well," he smiled, "I promise not to kill kill your mother."

Elena nodded. "Why, thank you. I guess."

They settled into another silence. He glanced over to find her staring at him. "What?"

"I was thinking about Bonnie."

Damon leaned over the armchair. "You know, it's okay. I'm hot, you're hot, it's natural I'd be on your mind. No one will judge you for having the occasional fantasy."

"Damon," Elena said, "I'm being serious. What she did tonight was incredible. And she did it for you and Stefan."

"No, idiot, she did it for you. If you weren't around, your pretty boyfriend would be a pile of bone and ash."

"Whatever," Elena stood, "she did it. Maybe someone should be grateful."

"Are you talking about Stefan?" Damon called after her. He sat back in the chair and poured another glass. Grateful to a witch.

The strange grin she flashed him danced in the flames. What was that about? The upward bend of her lips was more off-putting than the threat of immolation. The world had gone crazy. Damon knocked back another glass and let the flickering light and heat lull him to sleep.

* * *

Bonnie handed Elena a pint of Cherry Garcia and a can of Reddi Whip.

"Back up, back up. Repeat that."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Honestly Bon, does it matter?"

"Does it matter?" Bonnie dropped her spoon and grabbed Elena's shoulders. "Damon is in love with you. Stefan is in love with you. You are caught between two vampires. Be a little concerned, please."

"I'm not caught, Bonnie," Elena said with a smile.

It was Bonnie's turn to roll her eyes. "Ugh. Do you think that will stop Damon from doing what Damon does?"

"No, but give me some credit, will you?"

Bonnie sat back and took up her spoon. "I just want you to be careful. You know what they say about history repeating."

"Well, I'm not an evil vampire bitch so I think I have better chances."

Bonnie laughed. "True."

"And I have a best friend who has my back," Elena grinned.

They clinked spoons and Elena started talking about her costume for the Founder's Day Parade. Bonnie half-listened. Isobel had what she wanted. And she would use it. But when? She looked over to Elena. She was joking about Stefan getting a tan. Panic rose in her. What she did—Elena would never forgive her if something happened to Stefan.

Her mind raced. There was only one option left.

Bonnie sunk her spoon in the ice cream. "Elena, why would Isobel need the watch?"

Elena stopped mid-sentence. "What?"

"Why would Isobel need the watch?"

"I think it has something to do with Katherine. She escaped and left the tomb vampires to rot for a century."

Elena gave her a sidelong glance. "Why?"

Bonnie shook her head. "Nothing, just wondering."

Elena handed Bonnie her spoon. "It doesn't even matter now anyway. The device is useless."

Bonnie nodded. For the rest of the night her mind was divided between exfoliating and Chad Michael Murray, the watch she didn't de-spell, and the moral implications of killing.

* * *

Bonnie rolled the final log into place and stepped back. She did it. Five logs stood in a row, evenly spaced. Her backyard wasn't the place she wanted to practice, but it was the only place she knew she wouldn't be disturbed, not in this weather.

Cool, fat drops added a shimmer to the night. Gram's wind chimes created a cacophony of sound on top of the rain hitting the ground. Bonnie was soaked through her sweatshirt and cotton shorts but she shrugged her shoulders and whipped her hair back into a ponytail.

This was it. The final practice. Hell, the only real practice. Bonnie inhaled and shook her hands. Calm. Calm.

The logs shot into the air, scattering over her every which way. They were too high for her to see in the rain and the darkness. A knot formed in her back. She released the logs and closed her eyes.

"3…2…1."

Her eyes snapped open and she raised a hand to the sky. A log exploded. She turned as one nearly hit the ground and set it on fire, then ducked and swung a log into her neighbor's yard. The last two were seconds from hitting the ground. When they hit the grass, they were burning blue.

Bonnie turned her face into the rain. Tomorrow night she would go to the tomb.

* * *

"Ms. Bennett?"

Bonnie jumped and looked up. Alaric Saltzman stood over her desk. Bonnie glanced around to see empty seats.

"Oh my God," she whispered. Saltzman stepped back as she shoved her notebook into a bag. He reached for her when she tripped getting out from behind the desk.

"Are you okay, Bonnie?"

Bonnie nodded, glancing at the hand on her upper arm. He wore a ring similar to the Salvatores. He caught her looking and placed the hand in his pocket.

"You're friends with Elena Gilbert, right?"

Bonnie straightened the desk. "Uh, yeah. You're friends with her aunt, right?"

Alaric grinned. "You could say that."

"Okay, well, until next week." Bonnie bent her head and edged around him.

"I was wondering, since you seemed so enthralled during class today, what you thought of the new cultural sensation surrounding the supernatural."

Bonnie stopped. "What?"

Alaric sat at her desk. "Vampires, witches, magic. What do you think about our fascination with these subjects?"

The question was earnest and yet although Bonnie was out of it for most of the class, she knew the topic was Watergate.

Her eyes went to his ring. "I think we are fascinated with them because…they represent a darker side of us, maybe a side that is unusual but also real."

Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Real?"

"We all know the myths, but aren't myths stories we tell to understand things we can't explain?"

Alaric clasped his hands and smiled. "Very good, Bonnie."

She tugged on her bag strap. "I…I don't think _Twilight _was the subject of today's lesson, Mr. Saltzman."

Alaric toyed with his ring. "No, I just wanted your opinion on a thought I've had since coming to Mystic Falls. I've learned much of its history and how rooted the supernatural is in its lore."

"Oh," Bonnie said.

"One more thing, before you go," Alaric said as Bonnie turned to leave.

"The supernatural is not always dark. Vampires do kill, but they also don't glitter in the sun," he said. Bonnie chuckled.

"So there's a balance, huh?"

Alaric stood. "It's a lot more complicated than good or bad, right or wrong. Sometimes, things can't be explained. Sometimes things are what they are."

Bonnie frowned. Alaric sensed she was uncomfortable so he offered her an easy smile.

"I'll see you next week, Ms. Bennett," he said.

Damon watched her figure disappear beyond the glass panes of the school doors. _Sometimes things are what they are. _Alaric was one smooth boy. He stepped out of the shadows and in a quick movement sat on a desk in the middle of the classroom.

Alaric didn't even look up from his desk. "I'm busy."

"Didn't ask and don't care. You chatted?"

"Yes, we talked."

Damon waited. "And?"

Alaric sighed. "And you already know what was said."

"She's an intelligent girl. Cagey. Even your Mr. Rogers act couldn't shake a confession out of her," Damon said.

Alaric laughed. "Wait. Was that a compliment?"

Damon looked toward the window. "It's not a compliment, it's a fact."

"Whatever you say, Damon." Alaric slung his bag across his chest and grabbed his coat.

"Whatever you think about Bonnie Bennett is wrong. She's a good person with a good heart and—"

"Oh God," Damon groaned, "what's with the PSA?"

"You're hunting for something that has everything to do with Katherine and nothing to do with that kid. Yeah, Damon," Alaric said when Damon thrummed the desk in irritation, "she's a kid."

Damon waved him off. "Didn't Sting write a song about this? I think you might be the Lolita in this situation."

"Fuck off, Damon," Alaric said.

"Until next time," he replied. He waited until he heard Saltzman exit the building to run a hand over every desk until he got to hers. Beneath Alaric's human taint was Bonnie's distinct feel.

She ruffled the fabric of matter, pushed atoms aside and rearranged the chemical composition of air. Heat was here. He placed his palm flat on the desk and there was a pulse of that power. Faint, but enough to make his stomach clench.

Damon had a little trust in human loyalty, shit, loyalty period, but what trust he had it was in Elena and Bonnie's friendship. He tapped the desk. He was being irrational. There were other issues requiring his attention, chiefly finding Katherine.

But.


	4. Hunt

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews, alerts, and favorites. Enjoy.

* * *

Hunt

Dusk had finally reached the edge of the woods. The air was cool to the point of burning. Bonnie inhaled. She had to kill tonight. There was no turning back. She moved over stones and roots, fallen trees and uneven ground to Fell's Church. She stood above the yawning hole in the ground.

Her foot kicked a soft small body. The moon broke from behind the clouds. Her eyes widened in disgust. Dead forest animals littered the floor around the tomb entrance. The vampires had left. She knew they would not return. The house housing the vampires that kidnapped Stefan was empty. Bonnie stood in the doorway, a map and a flashlight in her hands. The next possible shelter was a few miles north. Bonnie sighed and tucked the map and flashlight into her pockets. It was going to be a long night.

It was thirty minutes into her trek when there was a prick at the base of her neck. The trees rustled, a stream of whispers echoed through the leaves. Grams told her the first instinct usually led to the best outcome. Bonnie's first instinct was to leap over the hole and run in the opposite direction of the voices.

Moonlight lit her jagged path as she ran. Up head the trees thinned. A clearing. She passed between two trees and into the clearing. A cloud passed over the moon and the silver light turned blue. Ice water flushed her veins and she turned, hand outstretched.

The creature was caught in mid-air. It fell to the earth screaming, covered in flames.

She snapped her fingers and the tree in front of her was lit. There were seven of them. They formed a loose circle around her, shuffling and snarling at the edge of the light cast by the burning tree.

"A witch," one of them said.

"Derek is dead," said another.

"She'll make a better meal than these campers," another snarled.

Bonnie kept the burning tree at her back as she looked at each one. Five men, two women. All smelled of rot, all were changed. This was more than she expected.

"I made a mistake," she said.

One of the female vampires stepped into the light. Her face reverted to its human countenance and her beauty startled Bonnie. Her hair curled in long auburn waves. Her face was creamy and pale. Her eyes were big and sleepy brown. She had a long lithe figure and her lips curved in a warm, full smile. Bonnie noticed the bloodless lips before she noted the smile.

"We all make mistakes, don't we Bonnie?"

Bonnie started.

"We have heard whispers of you. A witch. A Bennett witch. Bonnie," the redhead said.

She stepped closer. "I had a sister named Bonnie. She was small, like you, and curious, like you."

A branch fell a few feet from the woman, cinders flying up like fireflies against the dark. She didn't flinch.

"She was seven when they put me in the tomb. I was waiting for her to grow up before I turned her. I miss her terribly. I miss my sister."

The woman stopped a few feet from her. "I know how lonely you are Bonnie. Your grandmother died. Your father is negligent of your existence. Your best friends are happy with other people. But you don't have to be lonely, Bonnie."

She held out a hand. "I can be your family. I can protect you. I will never die like Grams. I will never hurt you like Elena. Be my sister, Bonnie."

Tears wavered in her flat, round green eyes.

"Do you mean that?" Bonnie whispered.

The woman nodded. Bonnie reached out, entranced. At the very moment Bonnie was about to take the woman's hand, she flicked her wrist to the fallen branch and sent it straight into the woman's chest.

"I'd rather be miserable for the rest of my human life," Bonnie said as the woman shriveled and fell to the ground.

The vampires stood in shock as Bonnie gazed at them. More branches fell but they didn't hit the ground. They hovered in the air, smoking stakes.

Bonnie grinned. "Anyone else like to try that psychoanalysis crap?"

* * *

Oh, yes.

Not five minutes in the woods and the whiff of a campfire and two hot and heavy twenty-somethings float by. Damon grinned. All that blood rushing, flowing, beating. He shivered. Post-coital food was delicious. And since he wasn't getting any, he would have to live vicariously through two idiots who should have taken some time to watch the five o'clock news.

Live vicariously. The excitement of a guaranteed decent meal dimmed. The only reason he was out slumming was to escape the nausea-inducing make-out sessions of Stefan and Elena. Seriously, why was Elena over almost every night? And why wasn't Jenna storming the Salvatore manor, threatening and wringing her hands and frowning in the Gilbert way?

Damon picked up a stone and chucked it at a nearby tree, splintering it. It was exhausting, being in the shadows, being a good fucking sport, being an animal, being whatever people needed him to be. It was his curse to always live in the past, and to always want what he could never have.

Fuck it, this moping was for Stefan. Damon sniffed the air. A forest fire somewhere to the south, a hunter doing some illegal hunting (food first, fun later), and…

"Mmm, la petite mort."

* * *

The moon shone full and bright. Bonnie let the power drain from her. Her shoulders sagged. Shriveled bodies littered the ground around her. She thought of the first vampire she killed. All that was left was a scattering of charred bodies.

Bonnie held out her hands. "Incendia," she began.

A hearty clap rang out. Bonnie whirled around.

"Oh, that was good. That was _really_ good."

Bonnie searched the wood but saw nothing.

"You are a special one. An ordinary witch could fend off maybe three. But a whole _seven_?" A low whistle cut through the air.

A shadow darted at the edge of her vision.

"Where are you?" Bonnie yelled.

"Behind you," a low voice said.

Bonnie turned to see more darkness. Laughter skittered throughout the woods.

"Bonnie Bennett. I am intrigued. Let us make this a real fight, hmmm?"

"Who are you?"

A strange stillness entered the atmosphere. Bonnie balled her fists. Incantations and spells whirred through her brain.

"You're going to pay to find out."

A forceful shove into her stomach sent her flying. Bile tickled the back of her throat as air rushed out her mouth. The clear sense of fear and falling wiped out all other knowledge. She crashed to the forest floor, tumbling through underbrush until her ribs jarred against a rock. For a moment she couldn't move. Then she heard a chuckle and she was up, running blindly past trees. She had to think, there had to be—

Something slammed into her back. Dirt entered her mouth and nose. A rough hand flipped her over. There was an audible pop and pain ripped through her but she didn't scream. Not until she saw gleaming white fangs inches from her face.

* * *

The bodies of the happy couple were nowhere to be seen. Damon lounged on their sleeping bag, humming as the fire spit and crackled. The woods. The safety of darkness and a controlled burn. He opened one eye to the fire. The heat warmed the soles of his feet. With all the blood running through him, he could live as a human for the next week or so. Warmth was a quality he missed. He liked the toasty feeling, the pleasant burn of the sun on his face, the even pleasanter burn of whiskey pooling in his belly. That was what the evening lacked, a bottle of Jim Beam. His eye closed. Sleep began to drift over his mind.

A scream shook Damon out of his sated state. He leapt up and doused the fire. The scream rang in his brain like a bell in his ear. Familiar. Moonlight glinted off his darkened eyes as they scanned the outlying area. It was dark and quiet, no movements out of the ordinary. There was nothing out there yet he remained in true form, unable to shake the feeling that he wasn't looking in the right place, that there was something…weird going on.

An explosion of sound sent him cringing to the ground. Damon sprang up. He could taste the fear in the air. The scream vibrated in his head, shifting through his memories. He saw a ring of fire, felt anger so clean and pure it startled him into action. Bonnie. He remembered and like a veil lifting he saw her running through the trees.

The blood. It was intoxicating. Every drop that hit the floor was ripe with adrenaline, with _power_. And then just as overwhelming was the stench of his kind. Its hunger was putrid. This was an old vampire. A dangerous vampire.

Damon snarled. It was a good thing he fed well. He had a witch to throttle.

Bonnie ran. She didn't think about what came out of her hand or that her arm was limp or that her leg started to cramp or that she was gasping for breath. She ran.

A road emerged through the trees and she nearly collapsed from joy. She was close. She was so close.

"Tsk, tsk."

Bonnie saw sky and the tops of trees and then the world fell on her, pressing her body into the dirt. A hand clasped around her throat. Pure black eyes filled her vision.

A leathery tongue licked the bulging artery of her neck. "You should feel your heart beating…like a stuck little bird."

She gagged and struggled while it chuckled. "That's it, pump your blood, make it thick with your anger and your fear. God, you're a fighter aren't you?" She dug her fingernails into its cheek. Her fingers became slippery. The hand around her throat squeezed harder but she didn't stop. She made a fist and punched.

The vampire flew off her and into the trunk of a tree. She rolled over and dug her hand into the dirt to pull herself to her knees but couldn't get to her feet. She crawled to the nearest trunk and sat against it. Her arm was numb, her lungs burned, her throat ached.

A dark figure approached. "That hurt Bonnie," it said as it stood over her. It nudged her boot and laughed. "I think the bird is spent. Maybe I'll take a piece as a prize, hm?" It bent closer to her, blocking out the moon and the air.

Bonnie cried out as she turned her face.

"All this speeching. Is that a villain thing?"

The vampire turned.

"Damon Salvatore, as I live and breathe," the vampire said.

"Jean-Luc Quartier. I thought you bit the wood a hundred years ago."

Jean-Luc shrugged. "I came to this damned place for a visit and ended up missing a century locked in a tomb. You know how that is."

Damon nodded towards Bonnie. "Looks like you're having a little trouble getting the food to your mouth."

Jean-Luc looked back at her with a patient smile. "No trouble. Just tenderizing the meat."

Damon sped forward, grabbed Jean-Luc by the throat and lifted him into the air. It was obvious he had been snacking on deer and rabbits.

"The witch is off limits."

Jean-Luc grinned. "She was off her leash. I think that makes her free for consumption."

Damon smiled tightly. "Yes, my mistake. Can't go for a quickie without any problems with that one. But she's mine. And I'm not through with her yet."

"I will look elsewhere then," Jean-Luc said. Damon set him down. Jean-Luc rubbed his neck.

Damon stepped to Bonnie. Blood rushed to her face and she gritted her teeth in aggravation.

"Bonnie, did I ever talk to you about breaking off more than your pretty little mouth can chew?"

Bonnie tried to stand but slid to the ground with a hiss of pain. "Give me a minute," she gasped when Damon came closer.

"Look, I'm all for empowerment, but it's pretty flimsy when it's all that's standing between a very old, extremely hungry vampire and his very clueless prey," he said. He bent down and locked eyes with Bonnie. Moonlight fell on half her face and shifted like shadows. Her green eyes were wide and bright and that damn warmth appeared. Not the toasty kind. The slick skin, hot mouth, uncomfortable as hell kind.

"Stop it," he said.

"Stop what?"

"Whatever shit you're pulling. I'm trying to save you and—"

Before she even opened her mouth he saw her eyes shift beyond him. He tensed and began to turn—

"Damon!"

—and got a kick square to the jaw. It cracked before he was conscious the action occurred. He landed far from Bonnie. Jean-Luc had him up in two seconds.

"Did you really believe it would be that easy?"

Damon growled. Jean-Luc laughed. "A hearty meal and a good kill. A top night, won't you agree?"

Jean-Luc delivered a staggering blow straight to Damon's heart and threw him into Bonnie's tree. He dropped in front of her, body in shock.

Bonnie dragged herself to him. "Damon. Damon, get up. He's going to kill us."

"Are you sure? Cause with all this foreplay I thought we might get some," he coughed.

Jean-Luc sped over Damon, grabbed Bonnie by the neck and pinned her to the ground yards away. Damon sprang up and pounced on Jean-Luc. The two vampires tussled as Bonnie pulled herself closer to the road. A hand grabbed her ankle and yanked her back. She screamed.

Jean-Luc crawled up her legs, his face twisted and dark with hunger. A clawed hand ripped through her sweater and blood fragranced the air. Jean-Luc forgot her neck and lolled his tongue over the marks on her side. Bonnie frantically searched the forest floor for something, anything to strike him with. Her hand grasped something solid and moveable.

Not enough blood escaped from her wound. Jean-Luc sank his teeth into her side and Bonnie yelped. She raised the object and saw Damon at Jean-Luc's back.

"Damon," she said. Jean-Luc raised his head in an agonized gasp as a stake went through his heart. Damon gave it a vicious twist. Jean-Luc withered in seconds. He tossed the carcass aside and knelt before Bonnie. His face was drawn.

His eyes fixed on the blood streaming from her abdomen. The fragrance of it forced his head lower.

A trembling hand covered the wound and Damon remembered. He slipped an arm under her back and knees and picked Bonnie up in one smooth movement.

"Put me down…I can walk," she protested.

"No," Damon said and jostled her a bit.

Bonnie sucked in air as dizziness overwhelmed her.

"I think…I think I did too much," she said before passing out.

Damon reached the road and looked down at her scratched and dirty face. "Just wait until you regain consciousness. Idiot."

* * *

Stefan looked at his cell and grimaced. He set it aside as he reached for Elena's laptop.

"Who is it?" Elena asked, tugging it away from his hands.

"No one as important as this paper about the Cuban missile crisis," he said. Elena narrowed an eye and gave him the laptop. She grabbed the phone.

"Damon?" she answered.

Stefan sighed as Elena turned away from him.

"Hold on, I'll get him," she said. She pressed the cell into her shoulder. Stefan shook his head. "Take it," she mouthed and then yelled, "Stefan!"

"Hang up," he mouthed back but the phone was at his ear. Elena glared at him.

"What?"

"I hope I didn't drag you away from boring Elena," Damon said.

"On the contrary, she's boring me," Stefan said. Elena smiled and went back to the table.

"Oh, how perfect. Anyway, I have a situation that needs your attention. Come home. Now," Damon said and hung up. Stefan heard the command in his brother's voice, as he had many times before, but it took the jangle of his keys for him to realize he was actually going to obey.

"Is everything okay?" Elena asked as she followed him to the front door. Stefan shrugged on his jacket and gave her a quick kiss.

"It's Damon so no. I'll call you when I know more," he said.

As soon as he stepped outside he paused as a whiff of blood entered his consciousness. This blood was familiar.

"Stefan?"

Elena stood on the porch. From here he read the immediate worry in her eyes. He went to her, gave her another kiss, and was in his car in five seconds. For her benefit he revved the engine and sped away. He didn't see it, but he knew she shook her head with an irritated smile as she went inside. He liked that he could erase that worry.

It didn't take him long to pull up to the house. He didn't see Damon's car nor did he see any lights on, but he felt his brother's presence, that and another. He got out of the car and was in the foyer in two steps.

"In here," Damon called.

Here was the kitchen. Stefan blinked when the bright lights hit his eyes, and then blinked for a different reason. Bonnie was on the wooden kitchen block and Damon stood over her.

He couldn't recognize Bonnie's blood even though it dripped like a leaking faucet from a horrible bite wound in her side. He couldn't even recognize her scent—everything was tinged with a kaleidoscope of blood types.

Stefan noticed her arm hanging at an awkward angle. He looked to Damon with darkened eyes. "What happened?"

Damon bit his wrist and put it to Bonnie's mouth. "Red Riding Hood got her ass kicked."

It wasn't until Stefan came closer that he got a full look at Damon. He was pale and the skin around his eyes were sunken in and black. His lips were chapped. His clothes hung off in black shreds.

Stefan grabbed Damon's other wrist and held it up. It hadn't healed. He saw muscle and tissue beneath the continuous bleeding. "What the hell is happening?"

"Obviously I'm not healing. And neither is she," Damon shook off Stefan's grasp, "I need more blood. Fresh blood."

About fifty bags of blood lay scattered around their feet. "Why isn't this working?" Stefan asked.

"I don't know Stefan. Maybe it's the regurgitated blood, maybe the moon isn't high enough, who the fuck cares about _why_. I need fresh blood. She needs to stop bleeding."

They stared at each other. Fresh blood for Damon meant some unsuspecting human. Stefan chafed under what he knew Damon needed. He couldn't hunt a human for blood. The thought made him physically ill.

"We should take her to a hospital," Stefan suggested. Damon grabbed Stefan by the neck. For all the blood loss, Damon had lost little of his strength.

"I'm not in the mood to spell out how stupid that would be," Damon forced Stefan's head down to hear Bonnie's shallow breath. "I need that blood. I don't care from what. Whatever eases your precious conscience. Just get it and come back."

Stefan shot back a couple feet the moment he was released. Damon fixed his eyes on him and for the first time in ages he felt like a little brother, inexperienced and at the mercy of his elder's knowledge. Stefan disappeared from the kitchen and took a deep breath of cool night air.

He touched the cell in his pocket. Elena…no, Damon made it clear Elena wasn't to be involved by not mentioning her. He'll call her when Bonnie was out of danger.

The soft step of a deer had him moving across the lawn and into the woods as silent as a shadow.

Damon heard the front door click shut and slumped against the table. He withdrew his wrist and put his head in his hands. Damn Stefan. He thought he had enough strength to maybe sneak out and tap a human source but playing enforcer sapped what was left of it.

He looked at Bonnie. Stefan hadn't noticed that she was practically naked on the table. Under different, less bloody circumstances he would love to sit back and admire the functional black cotton bra that runneth over coupled with the ridiculous lace pink panties with small pink bows. She had a great body. Smooth and tight all over. A tendril of that telltale heat curled within him and he straightened.

Her mouth parted and through bloodied teeth he heard her wheezing. It would be his luck that she had internal injuries. Humans were so fragile. His eyes swept over her body once more before settling on her face.

If she didn't sound like an asthmatic he would have thought she were dead. A mixed bubble of emotion turned his eyes from her gray face to her arm. The least he could do was set it.

"I really wish you could feel this," Damon whispered before popping the bone back into the socket. He went to her swollen ankle and prodded it. A sprain. The dull thud of her heartbeat quickened by a fraction.

"Bonnie?"

That tendril of heat broadened. He ran a finger along the sole of her good foot. To the undead eye, the toes moved as if shocked. He touched her recently set arm and she moaned. The wheezing deepened. He watched her eyelids move then crack open.

"Damon."

Stefan stood behind him. Damon could smell the warm blood in him. His mouth watered.

Stefan moved to bite his wrist but Damon jerked his head. "No. If she feeds, it's from me."

Stefan retracted his teeth and gave Damon an odd look. "It's a little too late to start staking claims, Damon."

"Pun intended?" Damon asked and Stefan shook his head.

"There is a fawn out back."

Damon was gone before Stefan said another word. The room became less tense with his absence and he saw Bonnie as if for the first time. She only had on underwear. He immediately averted his eyes to find hers open.

Stefan swam before her, dissolving and reforming every time she blinked. Tears tickled the side of her face when she saw his concern. She tried to speak but the effort made her dizzy.

"Bonnie, it's okay. You're going to be okay," Stefan said. His voice sounded so far away. She blinked and saw Jean-Luc, his face hideous and teeth dripping with blood. Her blood. Panic rose and she started to gag. Stefan placed his hands on her shoulders as she began to move. The effect was like dropping her into an ice bath. She gagged in earnest. Bonnie shook; her eyes were huge and her nails clawed at the table.

Stefan vanished as she was pulled up. Her breath came out in shortened puffs and her shaking softened. Blue eyes stood out clear from the hazy image of a kitchen. Their electricity shot right through to her bones and she inhaled despite the enormous pain.

"Alright trouble, down the hatch like a good little witch."

Soft flesh made contact with her lips and liquid ran down her throat. She was too startled to do anything but swallow. It was warm and tasted sweet, tasted clean.

There was a rushing in her ears. The blue eyes crackled and sparked. A face formed around them. Dark hair fell into them, dark eyebrows rose above them and lips smirked below them.

Her eyelids drooped as her mind began shutting down. She looked at that face for as long as consciousness allowed, sure that if she stopped she would be sucked back into a painful void.

"Go to sleep, Bonnie. Go to sleep."

The voice wrapped around her brain and Bonnie floated into a smooth, silky dark.

* * *

Stefan watched Elena pace. She was talking but the long strides and the swing of her heavy hair distracted him from her rant about Damon.

"I can't believe him! What was he thinking? What was Bonnie thinking? I mean, what were they doing together, out in the woods? They hate each other," Elena stopped pacing and turned to Stefan, "don't they hate each other?"

Stefan nodded and Elena continued. "Damon must have compelled her."

"Witches can't be compelled."

"Oh, glad that you're listening," Elena replied and sat down in a huff.

They leaned back into the leather couch. "I know you don't trust Damon—"

"No, I do," Elena interrupted, "that's the problem."

Stefan frowned. "I'm not following."

"Damon wouldn't put Bonnie in danger because…" Elena toyed with a button on his shirt, "because I care about her. And like you, he wouldn't put someone I love in danger."

He understood. It was one thing if Damon loved Elena solely based on her appearance, but a different thing entirely if he loved Elena for the same reason Stefan loved her—because she was nothing like Katherine. She was what Katherine should have been; she was what they thought she was.

Stefan rubbed Elena's back and she relaxed into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. His eyes drifted over to the rays falling onto the stack of books Damon left in a corner. There was no 'if'. He did love her. Isobel put it out there and it appeared in Damon's antagonism towards anyone not Elena.

"History won't repeat itself," Stefan murmured. Elena kissed the side of his mouth.

"No, it won't."

Stefan smiled. "I'm that easy to read?"

"I've had a lot of time to look at you," Elena said and gave him another kiss, this time slow and deep. She pulled back with a sigh and stood up.

"I should check on Bonnie."

Stefan drew her back down. "Nothing has changed from half an hour ago. She's fine. And Damon is with her."

Elena raised an eyebrow. "Not very reassuring, babe."


	5. Pact

**A/N**: Sorry about the delay. Enjoy!

* * *

Hate is a skinny thing

Bonnie was floating. Cool golden water lapped against her body. A fine mist from the falls kissed her face. The sky above was a clear blue. The trees reached high above her. Branches formed pockets of shade around the pool.

Bonnie turned her head. Grams floated next to her. She reached out and took the offered hand. It was solid and warm, alive.

"Grams, you've been here all along?"

Sheila grinned into the sun. "I'm here right now."

"But who knows tomorrow, right?" Bonnie smiled when she laughed.

"You remember. Your mama came up with that, sassy girl."

Bonnie squeezed her hand. Sheila turned to her. "You're not dead."

Sheila sighed. "I am baby. Dead but not gone. You needed help so I'm back here, where I taught you the most important lesson I could."

Bonnie closed her eyes and breathed. Her lungs expanded and deflated without pain. Air escaped without noise. She kicked her feet and moved her arms. She was as fluid as the water. Nothing…hurt.

"How to heal," Bonnie said.

"You're stronger than I ever was. But you're still young, Bonnie, and I left you without guidance," Sheila started. Bonnie shrugged.

"But you're here now."

The sun was bright on her face. She looked to Grams who was half in the shadow, half in the light. Fear tightened her grasp on Sheila's hand.

"Bonnie, you need to let go. If you don't you'll drown and who will carry on?"

"Grams," Bonnie cried but Sheila shook her head.

"You have been blessed, baby. You have someone with whom you will tow the line. But you have to trust yourself, you have to let it go, Bonnie. Let it go."

Sheila winked at her and turned her face towards the ever-brightening light. Bonnie looked up to a pale sky. Even behind her eyelids it was pale. There was a growing heat on her face the spray from the falls couldn't cool. Her hand felt for her Grams and there was a squeeze and then water rushing against her palm. Bonnie rolled over into the light.

Sunlight fell into her eyes. Bonnie groaned and blinked. Her limbs were heavy and there was a slight pounding at the base of her skull. Her mouth was mossy and metallic tasting. Bonnie turned out of the sun's path into a pillow that was not her own.

She popped up. This room was not her room. This room looked like it was beamed out of a modern architecture magazine. It was uncluttered, bright, and huge. The sheets slid against her legs as she swung them over the side. They were silk, a deep chocolate brown color. Dread rose in her.

It increased by leaps as she stood and looked at herself. She had on a small black shirt that didn't leave enough to the imagination. It rode up to settle around her hips every time she breathed.

"Jesus Christ," Bonnie muttered as she pulled the shirt down.

"Yes?"

Bonnie scrambled for a pillow and used it as a shield. Damon was grinning on the other side of the room. The tirade died in formation as she took in not only the grin but the tousled wet hair and the slick toned body and the towel wrapped low around his waist.

"You look a little flushed, Bonnie. Is everything alright?" Damon asked.

Her eyes went to his face and saw the same kind of appraisal in his eyes. Mortified, Bonnie brought the pillow back up to cover her body.

Damon's smile grew with every second.

"What am I doing here?" Bonnie demanded.

"I think you fell asleep eating all that porridge."

"Enough with the allusions," Bonnie said. Damon rested a hand on the knot holding the towel in place. Bonnie immediately faced away. Her mind raced. The television came on with an explosion of sound and then quieted. He watched the local news. Of course he would.

"Everything after you picking me up is a blank," Bonnie said over the news report.

"You did the stupid thing and passed out with a concussion. Which doesn't surprise me. Drink the water next to you and take that aspirin."

Bonnie hesitated before obeying. She might still be dreaming. It would make more sense if she were dreaming. She gulped down one pill and was about to take the other when she remembered. It was the water splashing against her teeth, sliding down her throat. Blood. She could taste its metallic flavor.

"You fed me blood?" Bonnie questioned.

"Only a few pints."

She whirled, forgetting the pillow and the glass. Damon was right behind her, holding both. He tossed the pillow on the bed and set the glass on the bedside table. He straightened and looked down on her as she glared up at him. Anger diverted her attention from their partial nakedness.

"Just think of it as eating pints of your favorite flavor of Haagen-Dazs."

"Did you bleed someone? Did you—"

"Did I kill some poor, unsuspecting human to save you? Please," Damon said. His eyes shifted over her. "I have my standards."

The heat between them returned with sharpness like a limb regaining feeling.

"Get away from me," Bonnie said.

Her stomach clenched when he placed a hand on her arm. She expected...she didn't know. He had touched her before, but she was afraid of him then, or too focused on coming out of a conversation the victor. She didn't know he was not cold but warm, that his touch could be light.

"Before the hysterics, I need to check something." Before Bonnie could speak Damon lifted the shirt to examine her side. The skin was tender. She flinched when his thumb stroked the welts that had not disappeared. His breath was hot on her hip. The minute hairs on her torso rose towards him.

Bonnie shoved his hand away and stepped back. Beads of perspiration dotted her brow. Damon stood loose limbed in low-slung black jeans. Light slanted across him.

"You know I can kill you," Bonnie said.

"I am well aware you can," Damon said. Bonnie did not like the sudden neutrality in his voice. It contrasted with the usual predatory intent. He walked to the other side of the room and pick up a brown paper bag. He dangled it on one finger towards her.

"Elena brought you some clothes."

Bonnie held out her hand but Damon remained in place. She went to him and reached for the bag but he dropped it behind his back.

"You have no idea how tempting those pink bows have been. I think I'm going to miss them much too much to let them disappear so soon," he said. His eyes dipped to her waist then back up to her face. His lips twitched.

Bonnie snatched the bag from behind him. "Screw you."

"Okay," he said. She blinked. He was gone. She looked around for a full minute for any sign of him before looking for the bathroom. There wasn't one. She forgot that an animal like Damon would of course love to have an open space where he could see his victims/one-night stands shower and change and vice versa.

Bonnie went to the only door then thought better of it. He was probably on the other side, smirking, waiting to harass her. She emptied the contents of the bag on the floor with a muffled curse. She yanked off the black shirt and pulled on the white tank and gray cardigan.

Bonnie bent to put on her jeans when she heard a deep groan.

"Goodbye pink bows," Damon said from the bed.

Instead of going berserk, Bonnie pulled up the jeans without a word or look in his direction. Damon whistled and Bonnie swallowed the raw urge to kill him.

She spotted her boots next to the bed and sat on the ground to tug them on.

"So, now that you're decent and somewhat back to normal, why don't we talk about the reason you're here," Damon said.

"How about I get the hell out of here before I turn you to ash?"

"How about we cut the bullshit?"

He stood over her as she laced up the boots. Bonnie jerked the laces. It was better if she kept her head down. She was off, there were some raw nerves and one thought about the watch and her mission and he would know. She knew he knew by the way he loomed over her.

"Are you going to answer me or am I going to have to get persuasive?"

Bonnie stood. "I think we've done this before, and every time we seem to end up getting nowhere. I say we skip the fight and go straight to the stalemate. Deal?"

Damon closed the distance between them.

"I saved you," he said.

"So?"

"So you owe me."

Damon heard her heartbeat slow. Her green eyes flattened with annoyance.

"I remember saving you too. That branch didn't come out of nowhere, you know."

Something happened. Maybe it was the way the sunlight hit her face, maybe it was the slight movement of her shoulders as she talked, maybe it was the cut of her shirt. Whatever it was, Damon wanted to touch her. In a non-homicidal way. In an unnecessary way. His hands felt full of direction.

Bonnie thought he was waiting for something. She began to fidget and his hands moved. They never reached her forearms as she stepped around him and darted to the door.

"We're not done," Damon said.

The door opened and closed. His hands fell.

* * *

Bonnie watched the sun rise over the forest and sighed. She couldn't sleep. Shutting her eyes placed her in the way of remembering, and she wanted to forget. _We're not done._

She buried her face into the pillow and let his voice echo until it was faint. Every time there was a creak or a draft or movement at the edge of her vision it was Damon come to torment her, to rehash every moment from that night and inflict more of his Vampire mojo upon her.

She knew he was biding his time, and that made every second of the past two days utter misery.

Her cell phone chirped and jumped on the bed stand. She read the display.

"It's too early," Bonnie groaned.

"I know but duty calls. I suffer, you suffer."

"But you get to suffer with a full night's rest and no nightmares."

There was silence. Bonnie heard the words Elena wanted to say in the meantime. It was hard for her friend to not press the issue, but Bonnie was staunch in her decision to not talk about it. She didn't want Elena asking questions that would lead her to confess the truth.

"I still think Damon did something to you. Maybe when you drank his blood he created a link to your mind or feelings."

Bonnie sighed. "Really?"

"Well, it's possible. Stranger things have happened, Bonnie."

Bonnie ran a hand threw her hair. "So you think he's torturing me telepathically."

"Okay, when you say it like that, no. But it's about him, isn't it?"

Bonnie absently stroked her side. "If I'm going to have to engage in this stupid town's stupid rituals, I want Jenna's peach cobbler with praline ice cream."

There was a pause. "Wait, for breakfast?"

"Yes. That and a ban on vampire talk until we actually see one."

Elena made a noise. "Fine. See you in thirty."

They hung up and Bonnie fell back onto her pillows. She read nothing about blood and telepathic links in Emily's grimoire or in Gram's books. She also didn't come across anything about instantaneous heat.

Her eyes fell to the time. She scrambled off the bed and into the shower. There was plenty of time to agonize over the whys. All she had to do was get through the day without completely losing it.

The square was packed with people building, painting, and sewing. Bonnie was glad for a break from painting the Ball float. The hot sun bore down on her bare head as she maneuvered through the various building sites to stand in line for a sandwich and some lemonade. She was returning a text message when someone bumped into her.

"Excuse me," Bonnie said, eyes still on the cell phone.

"I have some questions for you," Damon said.

Bonnie snapped her head to her right. Damon stood beside her, a bag of shelled peanuts in his hands.

"I'm not in the mood to do this," Bonnie said.

"Well, we can always do this later…" Damon paused, " or we can cause a scene and I can let it slip to Elena the whole watch deal."

Bonnie drew up, startled. "What?"

"Hey, it's up to you. I'll even let you choose the time and place," Damon said. He shelled a peanut and ate it, eyes bright.

Bonnie shut her eyes. He knew. At least he was giving her the opportunity to choose the setting for this battle. The sooner done, the better.

"My house. Nine."

Damon nodded and began to walk away. "The ham sandwich is crap, by the way. Not enough meat," he said.

Bonnie went with lemonade and a PB&J.

* * *

For once Bonnie was grateful no one was home. She dropped her purse on the little table by the door and checked the time. 8:00 pm.

She needed solitude. She was halfway up the stairs when she jogged back down and went to the kitchen. She needed to prepare a fucking plan. The likelihood of this being a rational, conciliatory meeting was nil. Damon was cunning. He usually got ahead of himself sometimes, but he seemed to come out with more than he went in.

She could be cunning too. He would probably come early and wait somewhere in the house. Her room. Very Damon. What did she know? He was currently harassing Elena and Stefan (Elena sent her an SOS). She killed seven vampires. She could make objects burst into flame. She had an advantage. Bonnie went to the pantry and opened the jumbo box of Cheez-Its they finished off about a week ago. It was the perfect size to hide the grimoire.

Bonnie took the grimoire and flipped through the pages. Her face lit into a smile when she found the spell. Intermediate level stuff, but she could do it. And she had all the ingredients.

She was ready and waiting by 8:20 pm.

The house phone rang.

Bonnie read the number. She hesitated a full ten seconds before answering.

"Caroline this better be—"

"Two things: One, I am losing my mind with all this Miss Mystic Falls business. Fundraisers, dances, parties, balls? I have like, five tests in the next three days and Mrs. Lockwood is breathing down my neck like some medieval dragon, which leads me to two—what am I going to do about this French test Friday? Conjugate this Bonnie, 'I am flipping out, you are flipping out, he/she/it is flipping out.' Arggghhh! And then there's Matt—"

"Whoa, what?"

"Matt. Might. Break. Up. With. Me. Me! Just when things are going really well, just when we're entering the neutral zone of happiness and dating."

Bonnie picked up her purse and keys. "Ok, I'll be over in ten. But I am warning you now, I only have fifteen minutes tops to join you in commiseration land, okay?"

"Bonnie, if only I knew how to say 'I love you' in French."

"Okay, crazy," Bonnie laughed.

The hour and minute converged at nine the moment Bonnie stepped through the door. She shrugged off her jacket and walked the short hall to the kitchen. She set her purse on the island, went to the fridge, and took out a bottle of water. Listening made her thirty.

She closed the fridge and walked back down the hall to the living room. She looked at her watch. 9:05 pm. The metronome on the mantle above the fireplace ticked at a faster rate than normal. Bonnie sat on the couch and turned on the television. She flicked through channels. Bear Grylls was in the Appalachian Mountains. Bonnie dropped the remote and settled back.

At 9:15pm the metronome stopped altogether. Bonnie shut off the television and went to inspect it.

"Are we playing a game?"

Bonnie turned. Damon reclined on the couch, head on a pillow, feet propped up on the armrest. She willed herself to remain steady as he cast a lazy eye about the room.

"Well?" he asked.

"I said nine. I was here."

"Usually you head straight to your room, shower, get in those drab pajamas and lights out," Damon said. He sat up. "I think you were preparing an offense."

Bonnie filed away the fact Damon knew her nightly ritual for later. A pattern emerged with Damon: you think you're ahead when you're actually miles behind. No turf was safe for Bonnie—he was a killer, and killers adapt.

The best way to offset being caught was to admit it. "Did you honestly expect I wouldn't?"

Damon gave her a half grin. It was the first genuine action she's seen him do since this morning. "I expected you to lie. Normally you bomb at lying, but when it comes to my kind, you have a winning poker face."

Bonnie shrugged. "From what I've read, your kind and my kind aren't exactly best of friends."

"No," Damon stood, "not unless we have a common goal. The enemy of my enemy, Bonnie."

"We're not friends."

Damon raised an eyebrow. He tapped a finger against his mouth and turned. He slow walked around the coffee table. Bonnie forced herself to keep still.

"I am curious as to this offensive tactic you were planning," Damon stopped and said.

Bonnie stared at him. "It doesn't work that way."

"Oh," Damon said. It was suddenly very quiet. Damon shifted and Bonnie saw. It was a moment of foresight or maybe it was a combination of insight and understanding. In a second Bonnie recalled his true age, the seconds in the woods, the soft exhalation of "Oh."

Damon lunged at the same time she stepped forward. The candles she ringed around the room flared to life and Damon reared back with a snap. There was a whoosh and the house went dark. Bonnie felt a weight descend over her, muzzling her powers. Her heartbeat quickened as she thought of fire and nothing happened. It worked.

Damon whistled. She heard his boot scrape the floor. "Some trick."

A wave of disorientation caused her to lean towards the fireplace. She misjudged the distance and was on her way to the ground when a hand gripped her arm and set her right.

"From what I've read, newbies are only suppose to move things around and set people on fire."

Bonnie blinked. Blood trickled down the back of her throat. The dizziness didn't dissipate. She reached out and held onto his arm.

They stood there in the darkness for a minute before Damon led her to the couch. She didn't let his arm go as he sat her down, so he sat next to her. His sense of being was under some thick veil. He smelled her blood but the impulse to turn was muffled. Was it her hand resting on his arm? Damon touched the flesh there. She had warm skin, soft. She didn't flinch. Most likely she didn't even feel it.

"You peeked at the back of the book," Damon said.

"It was easy to cast. Should have known better," Bonnie whispered.

"Well, here we are, in a supernatural stalemate. What do we do now?"

"You know what I did."

Damon sat back, bringing her with him. Her hand was still on his arm. Her blood was sharp in his nose.

"I know what you didn't do."

"I couldn't do it."

"Because you hate vampires."

"Yes."

"Stefan saved you on, what was it, three occasions? You hate him?"

Bonnie gave him a sharp glance. "I hate you."

Damon smiled. "Oh, and here I thought you adored me."

"Look, if you think I feel guilty about it, I don't. Not really. It's another weapon to use against vampires. But," Bonnie paused, "I know it would hurt Elena if something happened to Stefan. And, I guess, you. To a lesser extent."

Damon looked up to the ceiling. Car lights flashed then only shadows, navy and black. Her breathing had evened out. The blood had stopped. Her hand slid away to rest in her lap. He had come here to terrorize her, get a little bloody maybe. But she had intrigued him. It had been a long time since someone played a level game with him.

"Why are you here?"

Damon turned his head to peer at her. "I was bored playing Risk with John."

Bonnie let out a frustrated breath. "So what are you going to do?"

"What are _you_ going to do?"

"I asked you first."

"And I asked you second."

Bonnie shook her head. "The only option I have is to take away the reason to use the watch."

Damon was silent. She was serious.

"How many of them have you killed?"

"Eight. Seven. Technically, you killed one, the French vampire."

Damon went back to staring at the ceiling. Here he thought Elena was Buffy. She didn't even sound like her normal, self-righteous self. It was as though she flipped a switch and voila! Bonnie Rambo.

He liked it.

"Here's the deal," he moved a little to face her. "I won't destroy your friendship with Elena in exchange for equal share in the hunt."

Bonnie knitted her brows. "What?"

"It's obvious you can't hack it without help. And I need a break from this 'sit and wait and watch Elena moon over Stefan' routine. So we partner up, kill some revamped vamps, and possibly figure out what Uncle John and Mama Izzie are up to."

Bonnie shook her head. "No."

Damon nodded. "Yes."

"I can't trust you."

"I don't trust you either. But there are more important things than our feud, Bonnie."

She stared at him, her face a scrunched up ball of doubt. Damon sighed. "For Elena?"

Bonnie searched his face. There were innumerable reasons not to do this, chief among them her utter contempt for Damon. He followed his own agenda, he was dangerous, and he was reckless. Plus he had some issues with unrequited love. He was a mess Bonnie did not want to get involved in but…Bonnie sighed. Damon was powerful. She had limits and he seemed to recognize none.

Bonnie got to her feet. Damon watched her pick up a candle next to the fireplace. She came back to the sofa and reached into the side.

"Hold this," she handed the candle to him.

He took it. Bonnie opened a matchbook and struck a match. The flame made her face look small and drawn.

"The only way to end the spell is for us to blow out one of the candles used in the spell."

"You're kidding me."

Bonnie pursed her lips. The match died. She struck another. "I can live with being a regular girl. Can you live with being a regular boy?"

Damon tilted the wick to the flame. The fire was white and blue.

"On three," he said.

"One," Bonnie said. She leaned forward.

"Two," Damon said. Her eyes met his.

"Three."


	6. Mission

**A/N**: I'm back. Finals are done and now I can focus on my little darlings. I'll try not to kill them. Enjoy.

* * *

Mission

The first order of business was a drink.

Damon went down to the cellar, passed the rooms where many, including himself, were imprisoned on pain of death or desiccation, and took another flight of stairs down into a spacious cool room lined with bottles. He had no interest in the century old wines or scotch or whisky—there was only one bottle in mind.

Stefan scrubbed a hand over his face as he chucked his keys in an ashtray. The clink of crystal directed him to the seldom used kitchen.

Damon stood at the island, an open bottle of Hennessy and a glass resting on a wooden board in front of him. Stefan could smell the damp coming off Damon. The yellowed paper and broken red wax of the bottle told him everything he needed to know about this occasion.

"Who did you piss off now?"

Damon filled the glass. "Wrong question, Stefan." He drank down the cognac and did a little shake. Damn, the stuff was strong. It was almost strong enough to overcome the strange flush that had been on him since the pact made with Bonnie.

Stefan shook his head. "Where were you last night anyway?"

"In Elena's closet," Damon answered. They shared a quick, strained smile, and Stefan went to the fridge. He took out a bottle of Bambi blood.

"No, really. I came home, you were gone. I left for school and I must admit, I missed the usual harassment."

"I was in Richmond. Two words: sorority mixer. Dear God." Damon clutched his chest. "They get friskier and more entertaining every decade."

Stefan gulped down half the bottle. "Glad to know you're back to your usual menu."

"Not all of us are pure of heart, Saint Stefan," Damon said sweetly. He poured another glass and discreetly checked the time.

They both turned upon hearing a tires crunching on the gravel. Stefan frowned. "Not Elena's car."

Damon swallowed the rest of the Hennessey, grabbed the last good leather jacket he owned (a bone to pick with the witch), and sprinted out the door into an ungodly bright morning.

Bonnie was just stepping out when Damon slid into the passenger seat.

"Hit it, McQueen."

"Good morning to you too."

Damon just looked at her. Bonnie suppressed a sigh and soon they were speeding down the drive. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Stefan stood on the porch, staring after them. He could feel the worry chasing the car. He reached into a leather pocket and put on a pair of shades. He leaned back into the seat, shut his eyes, and wished Bonnie would go at least five miles over the speed limit.

Bonnie was in upstate North Carolina by late afternoon. She left Damon in the car and went into one of those small town restaurants with the crisp white tablecloths and multicolored plates and black and white photos on the wall. She sat in a smooth pale green leather booth and spread out a map of the state.

It didn't take her long after Damon left last night to start tracking down the remaining tomb vampires. They had scattered out of Virginia. Smart move. Something sent them away, probably her. Bonnie took a saltshaker and sprinkled fine white grains on the upper region of North Carolina. She whispered a few words, there was slight breeze, and she knew the district, city, even street the vampires inhabited.

By the time Damon ambled inside, Bonnie was eating waffles.

"I thought girls like you only ate three times a week."

"Girls like me?"

Damon sat across from her and picked up a menu. "Girls with halos and complexes and misplaced anger issues."

Bonnie set down the fork. "So, this is Damon after a bender—bitchy and an even sharper pain in my ass."

"What gave it away?"

"The blood on your breath."

Bonnie went back to eating while Damon perused the menu. He had a headache. Those Richmond girls were a little too rich. Or maybe it was the cognac. He chose the wrong night to get twisted. Her hand entered his field of vision. The syrup was on his side.

"So what did you find out?"

"They set up camp about an hour from here. Daylight would've been preferable, but—"

"But you had a Chemistry test," Damon said.

"It was a Bio test. I thought you were a better stalker than that."

"I only took the time to memorize Elena's schedule."

Bonnie nodded. "Of course you did." She finished her waffles. Right about now she regretted her decision to go along with this deal. It would have been easier and less painful if Damon had run off like a good little asshole and told Elena the truth. He was still in the clothes from last night, he smelled like an ashtray, and he was paler than normal. In short, he looked a mess.

Bonnie figured he was getting hungry and it made her uncomfortable. Damon set aside the menu and stared at her.

"Let's go," she said.

The drive to Edmont was quiet. The only spat they got into was over the radio. It was a silent battle culminating in her turning off the radio and putting down all the windows. Damon laid in the backseat, shades on. Bonnie periodically glanced at the long prostrate figure and sighed. A part of her, a significant part, wondered if this wasn't some ploy to sabotage her. The rest knew Damon was only here for Elena.

Bonnie parked two blocks from the house. Damon hadn't moved in forty-five minutes. She looked in the rearview mirror, inhaled, and exited the car.

A light drizzle began as she approached the only darkened house on Crompton Ave. It was a large, brick, two-story house with a white picket fence and rooster weather vain on the mailbox that read 'Alabaster'. There was a large tree in the front yard with a tire swing attached. A family lived here. She saw no car in front of the house or in the car lane on the side of the house.

Bonnie pushed at the gate. She walked quickly to the porch steps, thought better of it, and darted low across the lawn to the side of the house. There was a cellar entrance. The door was padlocked, but that was easy to undo.

She switched on her flashlight and descended into a chilled darkness. Fear made her tread carefully. There were boxes, a workstation, various bikes, ski equipment. Her eyes caught the fluorescent white of a freezer light near the staircase. It hadn't closed properly. Her hand gripped the flashlight tighter as she edged closer. A creaking of floorboards above halted her advance. She turned off the flashlight and was in pitch dark save for a sliver of fluorescent light. The footsteps were heavy and sounded near. Her heart pounded in her ears. She was immobilized by the thought of discovery. The steps grew fainter and Bonnie bent forward, drawing in deep droughts of air. She wasn't this shaken the first time. It must have been the near-death experience. Maybe she had trauma.

Bonnie shook herself. The freezer light attracted her again. Did these vampires have blood bags like Damon? God, she hoped so. Her hand reached for the silver handle of the freezer.

A hand gripped her shoulder and pulled. Terror electrified her muscles. Bonnie dropped the flashlight and sucked in air to scream when another hand clamped down over her opened mouth.

"Nancy, I thought we had a deal?"

Bonnie paused, then slumped against the hard body, then broke from the grasp with an angry hiss. "You fucking asshole."

Damon held the flashlight to his face. "Did I scare you? 'Cause I totally meant to."

"I could have killed you."

"When?"

He raised his eyebrows. She snatched back the flashlight. "I left you in the car so I can avoid this situation."

"We haven't reached any situations yet that would necessitate regret," Damon admonished. His gaze flashed to the deep freezer. "There's about five of them up there. I propose we leave the Great Freezer Mystery of 2010 and handle business."

He moved to the bottom of the staircase. Bonnie went to the freezer and pulled it open. Damon examined her face. The white light threw inky shadows over her features. Emotions moved too rapidly to classify. He supposed he could have told her but this was a messy thing they were doing, and he wanted to see how strong her will was to get it done.

She bent forward a little, tugged, and dropped the freezer door. The flashlight turned off and they were alone in the blackness of a strange cellar. He saw her approach even though she could not. His hand quivered to guide her, but she moved past him, not even brushing him as she climbed the first three steps.

"What are you—"

There was a loud crack and then the door at the top of the stairs was a column of pale orange flames, spitting and hissing. Damon crouched back from the sudden light and heat. His hand collided with her back. It was stiff, the muscles hard. The flesh of his palm burned as though sunlight shone directly on it. The instinct to remove his hand died when she darted her eyes down at him.

There was something primordial in her gaze. It was stark and massive; it ate up the green of her eyes. The door fell to pieces. Oxygen was sucked away by the fire as it raced around them and out into the first floor of the house. There were screams, shouting. He heard glass breaking.

"They are trying to get out," Bonnie whispered.

Damon saw a path through the flames. He did not look at her as he sped out of the house and caught the first fleeing vampire. He dispatched him by putting a fist through the chest and heart. He did this until there was heart muscle beneath his nails and blood staining his cuticles.

By then the fire had overtaken the entire house. The sound brought back memories of the first war. There was citronella, straw, and kerosene in the air. Damon watched the house burn through a silver mist, gray, shriveled bodies at his feet. Memories. Sunlight on his neck. Throwing a hard rubber ball to his brother. The whish of skirts across crisp spring grass. He swayed towards them.

"Damon."

Bonnie stood beside him. The green eyes were back and so was the haggard expression. She cast a look at the dead vampires on the lawn.

"Go get the car, I'll take care of the rest."

She gave him the keys and turned from him, raising a hand.

They were leaving the neighborhood when fire trucks, medic buses, and cops howled by in the opposite direction. Damon tracked the whirring mixture of sounds and colors in the rearview mirror until they were only dim beats and indents in the night.

Bonnie sat next to him in the passenger seat. He didn't like how she sank into the seat, as though she were some collapsing diagram. He didn't like the slight shake of her hand as she buckled up. He didn't like the strangled sigh that came fifteen minutes into the drive back to Virginia.

Obviously she was on the verge of emoting something other than vexation. Damon flexed a hand. The skin had puckered. The blood was flaking off. He had a memory from his human life, before Katherine. He was wholly unprepared for this. At least with Elena there were visible tears, a pulsing vein splitting the smooth forehead, dark, dark eyes. He could deal with those emotional displays.

"We did well tonight," Damon said. Bonnie inhaled then exhaled a ragged breath. Chill, wet air swirled into the car and he heard rushing and tires and smelled gasoline and oil. She rested her head on the door and closed her eyes, the wind dragging strands of dark hair across her face.

* * *

She stood before the freezer, breathing in the darkness. It was so absolute as to be palpable. It rushed over her like water against bare skin. She touched the burnished metal of the freezer and it glinted as though sun kissed. There was something in this freezer. Bonnie pressed a hand on the door. She closed her eyes and smelled wood burning, flesh. The heat was unbearable but it did not harm her, it did not mark her. It came from her. So much fire. But what did that have to do with this cool box?

She lifted the door. Glacier blue light lit the air around her. Ice swirled on the surface. Beneath the mists were shadows, indistinct but human. She reached for the shadows, her fingers slipping into the fog.

A white hand shot up and grabbed her wrist. A soundless scream escaped as she jerked back. Damon's face materialized out of the fog, his eyes two dark stains.

"Leave it alone," he snarled.

Damon released her wrist and she tumbled back from the freezer. Darkness swallowed her the second she hit the ground.

In the rush to get away from Stefan, Damon forgot his overnight bag of tricks. Aside from a change of clothes, there were three blood bags, a sharpened knife, and a little charm from harm he obtained in the 30s from a lovely witch (no relation to a Bennett). Usually he had the bag in the trunk of his car, and usually he wouldn't be caught going anywhere outside of Virginia riding in a foreign car, but dammit if this little venture hadn't completely scrambled his brain.

Damon flashed a smile to the small blonde barista who made his frappe and stepped outside to sit beneath a green canopy. He reached into his jacket, took out a tube of blood, and quickly poured it into his drink. So this was what he was reduced to, breaking into hospitals and not even stealing a couple of bloodbags. Damon sipped his spiked coffee with relief.

It had been a long time since he was in the presence of that much fire. It took a toll on his energy, that and the dreamwalking. The blood would hold him up for a couple of hours, but he needed a few pints to return to peak performance.

As he reached the end of breakfast, his senses began to clear. Bonnie's mind was an acid trip on top of a fevered dream on top of a teenage nightmare. He suspected it was because of the witchiness that some of her consciousness still clung to him upon retreating. Her voice reverberated through his skull when he was about to make a meal out of a jogger. He felt compelled, _compelled_, to go to the hospital. And instead of just drinking the five tubes he lifted, that loud, annoyingly condescending voice directed him to conserve the blood and try something new. Blood and hazelnut coffee and cream. It would take some getting used to.

Damon checked his watch, then his cell. Stefan called him three times, Elena twice, and he got a "What the fuck are you doing?" text from Alaric. All before 10:30 am. He was becoming popular. He called the one person who would give him the least amount of shit.

"Damon, what the hell," Alaric answered.

"You sound like hell. And hushed. A bender that ended in bed with everyone's favorite redhead?"

Alaric only sighed. Damon laughed. "I'm returning your concerned text with a call to say that I am fine, all is well, no one has died that didn't deserve it."

"And Bonnie?"

"Oh she's okay," Damon said.

"Okay? You can't mitigate a teenage girl's worst fears for her best friend with a simple 'okay.' I need proof. Like her home, alive, preferably not traumatized."

"Tell Elena that Bonnie is with me, I will keep her out of harm's way. Tell her to trust me. Tell her what ever sounds good."

"Damon…"

"New topic. I know you don't like to kiss and tell but what about screw and tell? Do the same rules apply?"

"I am going to hang up now. There are kids who need teaching."

"Come on, Rick. Just when we're becoming bros? How about I promise I won't dip my feet in the same Rick pool twice?"

Damon chuckled when the phone beeped. It was too easy sometimes.

Fed and partially satisfied, Damon ambled the three blocks to the downtown-parking garage where he left the car. He could tell from a hundred yards away Bonnie was gone. Damon hurried to the passenger side and peered inside. The seat was upright, the blanket thrown aside. Her purse was missing. Her warmth was cool.

Damon stared at the concrete wall. There were two scenarios: Bonnie decided to play truant and seek out the rest without him or the rest searched her out and kidnapped her. There wasn't a mark on the car but there were ways to get to someone out of a car and into danger. In either case, he was fucked. He couldn't go back to Mystic Falls without the girl and he couldn't leave without killing these assholes, assholes he couldn't find in a timely fashion without the girl.

The girl. It was always about a girl.

* * *

Bonnie stepped off the bus. Clouds passed over the sun. Trees swayed in a cool wind. The town was small. A thirty-minute walk and she was in a residential area. Upper class, brick houses, fences. She walked the sidewalk as if in a trance. Her footsteps were sure even though she wasn't. The air was different.

Grams started to teach her about signs, tells. It was important to recognize the signature of another witch before one stumbled upon them. But the only witch Bonnie knew of was Grams, and Grams was dead. And so she left the teachings and readings about signs and concentrated on protection spells and strengthening her power. It did her no good when she was the only witch in Mystic Falls. She could have been the only witch in the world for all she knew. For a while, she was.

But the minute she stepped off the bus and into Greenfeld, she knew. The air was different.

Bonnie approached the end of a cul-de-sac. The house there was old, made out of wood. Oak trees crowded the yard and formed a living barricade from the rest of the street. Wind chimes tinkled from the porch. This was the house.

Bonnie stood between two oak trees. Her hand tightened on the strap of her purse. She took another step and paused. The door creaked open. A tall body came out from the shadows and into the dappled sunlight of the porch. It was a woman, her hair hidden in a bright blue cloth. She wore a multicolored skirt that swept the wood and a fitted gray sweater.

"You're young."

The voice hit her like wave of ice water. The instinct to run nearly overwhelmed her senses. Bonnie stood her ground.

"I'm looking for vampires."

The woman came to the top of the steps. "To kill them?"

Bonnie nodded. The woman sat. Her face was in the full ray of sunlight. She was beautiful, ageless, like a statue. It was a startling face, brown and gaunt, but the eyes. They were wide and almond-shaped. They were the color of amethyst.

"Yes."

The woman looked up to the trees. "The vampires residing here are under my protection."

Bonnie frowned. "Witches can't be compelled."

"I have not been compelled."

"Then why?"

The amethyst eyes turned on her. "A century ago, Emily Bennett extracted a promise from a vampire, to protect her kin. She saw something in him. Today, you journey with him. Why do you not kill him?"

Bonnie dropped her gaze to the concrete. If it came to it, she wasn't strong enough to battle this woman. Her words had power in them. Bonnie knew if the woman wanted to, she could kill her with just a change in tone. Right now, she was curious.

"Because he's useful," Bonnie answered,

"Useful?" the woman laughed. It was warm and bright. It reminded Bonnie of Grams. "That was a different answer."

"Why are you protecting them?"

The woman beckoned her to come and sit next to her. Bonnie looked beyond her to the open door. There stood a figure, watching her.

"He will not hurt you as long as you do not hurt him."

"That's not very reassuring."

"And what will reassure you, Bonnie?"

It was the first time the woman said her name. Never before had it sounded so dangerous.

"We meet in the sunlight. Surrounded by fire."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "What will the neighbors say?"

Bonnie said nothing. The woman stepped lightly down the stairs to stand in a pool of sunlight. Bonnie, after a minute of hesitation, joined her. A ring of fire enclosed them a second later.

"Very efficient. You surprise me. A fledgling witch without guidance casting spells with such ease. You will be powerful," the woman said.

"I am only surviving. Why are you protecting them?" Bonnie asked.

"They are the ones who did not join with the group who would seek revenge on Mystic Falls. They came to me and I accepted them."

"Wait, what?"

The woman smiled. "Will you listen?"

She didn't come all the way to West Virginia to listen. And she wanted to tell this woman, but what could she do? Leave and come back, go in there and get killed? She was stupid for leaving Damon, only because she was alone in this.

It was intense, it was momentary, but she wished, with every fiber of her being, that Damon were with her.

Bonnie nodded. The woman suddenly pressed a hand to the side of her face. There was a sharp prick at her temple and the world went white.


	7. Teeter

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, and thank you, loyal reader. Enjoy.

* * *

Teeter

Damon was as close to frantic as he was willing to admit by the time afternoon set in. He left the car in the garage after an hour of driving around. He searched more area on foot anyway. She wasn't anywhere downtown. She wasn't in the nearby neighborhoods; she wasn't in any outlying towns. He sat on the ledge of the tallest building for miles and fiddled with his phone. He had no clue what to do.

He tried to think of what he would do if Bonnie weren't connected to Elena. The panic prevented him from coming up with the typical answer. The truth was, Bonnie was connected to Elena. They were like him and Stefan, before Katherine, before the war, before he realized his father hated him and loved Stefan. And now he was responsible for fucking up another perfectly good relationship.

He took out a vial of blood. It was the last one he had. The afternoon sun exploded into blood red oranges and sharp golds. He stared into the sinking disk. The world stilled. He rolled the glass between his palms. The wind shifted slightly. His eyes were full of the sun when his chest expanded. Air rushed in, went nowhere, and left again. His skin tightened. Heat flushed every cell, wrapped around every nerve, flooded every synapse.

Damon blinked. He downed the blood and stood. He knew where she was.

* * *

Visions were a sporadic event. They never happened with any linear presentation, and they were always accompanied with a jolt of electricity that made her muscles tremble minutes afterwards.

This vision was more like an immersion in a memory. Bonnie was in a wooded area at night. The moon illuminated the scene. Blood tinged the air. A large group of vampires stood in a circle. Someone stood in the middle, speaking. Bonnie moved from behind a tree and came nearer. Between the gaps she discerned bodies on the ground, their limbs twisted at odd angles.

Bonnie stumbled back. Someone grabbed her arm and she screamed.

"You are safe, Bonnie Bennett. It is only a memory."

It was a man, the figure in the door. His eyes swept over her to the vampire speaking. "Listen."

Bonnie turned to find herself in the circle. Her eyes went to the corpses. The smell of blood was so thick her mind refused to believe this was simply a recollection. The man squeezed her elbow. She focused on the lone standing figure in the middle. He was young, with close cut brown hair and blue eyes. Handsome.

"The best opportunity to strike is during the celebration. The families will be in attendance. The element of surprise will be on our side this time, and we will slaughter them all, every last one."

Bonnie swallowed carefully. How could the word 'slaughter' come out so casually form such a pretty mouth? It must be a vampire thing.

Her memory guide stepped forward. "Lest you forget, someone has murdered the two oldest amongst us. There was witch activity involved as well. We would be foolish to return to Mystic Falls thinking to overwhelm the residents. A century has passed. Their vampire detection techniques may have become more sophisticated."

The young man smiled. "There are twenty of us now hydrated. Combined, our ages encompass two millennia. Expected or not, we kill." He turned his eyes to the rest. "Our friends in North Carolina are preparing for us. We depart in a fortnight."

"I will not join in this venture," the man said. The atmosphere changed to open hostility. Bonnie curled a hand into a fist. The young man narrowed an eye at her guide.

"This is not an option. Unless," the young man spread his arms, "you would like to challenge me."

Her guide gazed around the circle. She saw him nod to various people.

"I shall challenge you."

The young man's face flashed from human to vampire in an instant. "I am stronger."

Her guide grinned. The fangs descended. "Only by a decade, friend."

Bonnie gasped as the two men lunged at each other. The scene blurred and suddenly she was in a darkened room, slouched against a silk paneled wall. Candles flickered on every available surface. A woman sat at a table in the center, her palms up on the tabletop and her eyes closed. There were a number of people surrounding her. In front of her was a large book with thick yellow paper.

Bonnie walked towards the woman. It was the witch. Her hair was long and coppery in the candlelight. Black lace covered every inch of her save for her face and hands. Her lips were bright red. She whispered phrases of which Bonnie only had a vague notion. A summoning spell maybe. Or a sun spell.

"You have limited experience with witches."

Bonnie looked to her guide. "Maybe."

He grinned at her. For the first time she really saw his face. It was what Bonnie came to believe was typical of male vampires: young, angular, and attractive. This one had warm brown eyes, entirely unlike the frost blue eyes of her other vampire guide. And although he was a vampire and she hated vampires, a smile transformed her mouth. Attractive is attractive. Those brown eyes did not hurt.

"What are we doing here?" Bonnie asked.

Her guide nodded to the witch. "I wanted you to see Akiri."

Bonnie started to speak when there was a commotion. Akiri slumped forward and opened her eyes, staring straight ahead at them. The book snapped shut and the candles went out. Bonnie blinked against the darkness. She groped ahead for something solid and found a cold hand.

"Do not fear," he whispered.

The candles burst into bright white flames. Akiri sat with her eyes open, looking about the room.

"They have a device. A simple trinket, but effective. I cannot do anymore," she said.

Bonnie's guide knelt next to Akiri's chair. "You have done more than any witch should. We thank you."

Akiri placed a hand on the side of his face. "I am glad you came to me."

Bonnie watched the look that passed between them. Her guide pressed his face into her hand. Her thumb brushed the flesh under his eye.

"I must warn them Akiri."

Akiri shook her head. Her hair moved like a copper halo. "No. If you go, you will be killed. They have made their choice, Joshua, and you have made yours." She bent her head towards him. Bonne was nowhere near them, but she heard her say as though in her own ear, "I have dreamed of you for so long. Stay with me."

A brilliant suffuse of warmth coursed through her as Joshua brought his lips to Akiri's. Bonnie glanced at her guide.

"It'll never work."

Her guide smiled. "Perhaps. But for the moment, it does. And my life has been a series of moments."

Bonnie gazed upon the vampire and witch kissing. It seemed unnatural. At any moment he would drink from her. She waited. His hands went to frame her face. Akiri shut her eyes as he placed light kisses on her eyelids and cheekbones.

"I will stay."

Akiri smiled.

"She wants to protect you," Bonnie said. She turned to him but she must have turned too quickly because the world before her eyes blurred and dipped. Ground rushed to meet her and Bonnie braced for the fall.

"Bonnie?"

Damon hovered above her. His hands were locked on her arms, lifting her into a sitting position. Dry leaves crunched as she shifted. She was back in front of Akiri's house, except it was night and she was on a burnt patch of grass.

"Where's Akiri? And Joshua?" Bonnie asked.

"Who?"

"The witch who lives here, and the tomb vampire. He, they, took me through their memory, they wanted me to know…they showed me…the watch," Bonnie pressed a hand to her forehead. Damon glanced around them then frowned at her.

"Look, I don't know if this is some witch specific form of PTSD, but this house is abandoned. I found you lying here, practically in a fucking coma."

Damon pulled her up and turned her around. The house was more than abandoned. It was rotting, sinking in. Bonnie rubbed her temples. "I don't understand. I…saw them." She looked at Damon. "I saw it. I'm not hallucinating."

Damon said nothing as he stared at her, his frown increasing in intensity. "If I say I believe you, will you shut up and come along?"

"I don't need to be appeased."

"You're right. You're a big girl. I'm sorry. Can we go now?"

Bonnie stepped out of the circle. She whirled around to look at the house. She spotted the bright blue headscarf Akiri wore hanging over the porch banister. Damon didn't see it. They were there, watching and waiting.

"Bennett."

"I hear you Damon," Bonnie snapped. She strode past him to the car. Damon cast a look to the house and got behind the wheel.

While the car shot down the highway to Virginia, the house at the end of Nash Avenue resumed its original shape. Lights flared throughout the house until it was ablaze, a bright and hazy lighthouse on the bend of the cul-de-sac. Joshua playfully dropped the scarf over Akiri's head and sat beside her. She lifted the fabric from her face to grin at him.

"I told you so," he said.

"So you did. She could have brought the glimmer down, killed us all."

Joshua draped an arm over her shoulders. "You're stronger than her."

Akiri abstained from commenting. She linked her fingers through his. "I am glad you showed her that memory. It is a favorite of mine."

"I was feeling nostalgic."

They smiled at each other. Akiri rested her head in the crook of his neck. "Are they what we would have been in the beginning, if we had a beginning?"

"Maybe. But they will be different from us, I think."

Akiri kissed his knuckles. "Yes, they will be different. It will be harder for them in a way it was and never will be for us."

Joshua squeezed her gently. Akiri settled against him. They stared out into the long night, safe in their lit world.

* * *

"Elena."

"Bonnie! Where have you been? Is Damon with you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, we're fine. I just…" Bonnie angled her head away from Damon, who only tapped an ear. Bonnie scowled. "We're coming back now. I need you to do me a favor."

"What is it?"

"I need you to stay home. You and Stefan."

"What's going on Bon?"

Bonnie swallowed the truth. It didn't go down all the way. "I'll tell you after I'm sure everything's okay. Trust me Elena," Bonnie said, staving off the inevitable follow-up inquiry. Damon snorted.

There was reluctant silence that precipitated an even more reluctant, "Fine. But I need to know what's going on. As soon as you get back."

"Okay," Bonnie promised.

Damon glanced at Bonnie's profile. "So this Akiri, she saw the watch?"

"Yes. I don't know who 'them' is though."

"Probably John Gilbert."

"Are you positive this whole covert attack will happen tonight?" Damon asked.

"Fortnight is two weeks, right? So yes, tonight."

They fell into thoughtful quietude. Bonnie picked at her jeans. Joshua and Akiri pushed through her plans for tonight. It was unnatural. A vampire in love was a perilous thing. She glanced at Damon. He thrummed the wheel. No. Joshua was different. She was in his mind, she experienced the radiance of warmth he felt when Akiri showed her love. Love. What a complete minefield. God help her from going stupid like the rest of the world. Loyalty was enough to deal with.

"I think we should get something straight before we enter phase two of Operation Save Our Asses," Damon said. Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"Let me guess, no more running off?"

"You can run off, just let me know before you do that way, should something happen to you like, I don't know, death, I can be cleared of any wrongdoing."

"When I woke up you were gone doing God knows what, so don't paint me as some toddler who slipped you in the mall," Bonnie retorted.

"Technically, you are a toddler," Damon said.

"Right, I forgot you're one of the aged."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "You should respect your elders then."

Bonnie looked at him. "You are one of the worst chaperones ever."

"And this has been the worst field trip ever. So you're welcome."

Damon flashed her a grin. Bonnie turned her head to the window and smiled.

They passed the 'Welcome to Mystic Falls' sign when Bonnie remembered.

"How did you find me?"

Damon cursed as he came upon a closed street due to the celebrations. Bonnie repeated the question.

"I don't know. I just knew where to find you unconscious."

"You just knew? Like a homing beacon?"

Damon parked near the post office three blocks from the square. "No, not like a homing beacon or a lojack system or any of that crap. I knew, I went, I found. That's it." He gave her a suspicious look. "Why?"

Heat flooded her face. Didn't she wish—didn't she want Damon with her? The thought roiled her stomach. Bonnie shook her head. "Nothing. Just curious."

"Okay. So, to be absolutely crystal, I go find the motley crew, you find Uncle John or whoever and dismantle the watch."

Bonnie nodded. She was about to exit the car when Damon caught her arm.

"Yeah?"

Damon leveled a somber gaze at her. Minutes seem to drag by when it was actually a brief two seconds. "Kill or run, okay?"

Her stomach twisted. The flush crept into her face again. "Okay."

He was gone in a breath.

Bonnie picked up the keys left on the driver seat and tucked them into her jacket pocket. "Kill or run," she repeated.

It would be that kind of night.


	8. Run, Come

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, alerts, and favorites-they are much appreciated. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I disclaim Vampire Diaries.

* * *

Run

Kill or run. Bonnie stood before a glowing portal. Flickering orange seeped into the night. Smoke made a pattern in the air. Screams echoed all around. What was the plan again? Damon would find the tomb vampires and she would destroy the watch? Somehow nothing went according to plan. Maybe because Damon created it. Damon.

Heat buffeted hair away from her face. Stefan ran past her in a blur of movement.

"Stefan, wait!"

He paused at the entrance. "He's my brother, Bonnie."

Bonnie watched him disappear into the glow. I know, she said. The fire was so strong. Her desire was strong too, her desire to know the vampires were burned, dead, no more. No more trouble, no more death, no more—a face flashed ahead of her thoughts, white and frozen, small. Bonnie jerked back a step.

Elena brushed past her. Bonnie automatically reached for her, pulling her away from the heat.

"Bonnie," Elena struggled, "what are you doing?"

"The fire is too strong, Elena."

"Stefan is in there!" Elena tugged at her grip. "Bonnie!"

Bonnie never wanted Elena to look at her like that, like she was a monster. She closed her eyes. Focus. The fire was so strong. It licked everything. Ate and spitted. She needed energy. Through her hold she touched Elena's panic, her anger, the promise of devastation. Bonnie wanted to control it. She _needed_ to control it.

The door to the basement blew open. Stefan shrank back from the flames. He sensed Damon down there. Fear stripped away the caution. The fire would impede his speed but it was no matter if he reached Damon. Stefan stepped forward and the flames receded. He hastened to Damon and sped out as the fire grew at his back, expanding, singing the hair at his nape.

Bonnie released Elena a second before Stefan burst out of the building with Damon on his shoulder. Elena ran to them, grabbing onto Stefan and touching Damon. All three looked at her. She read their glances: grateful, angry, puzzled. They would be fine. Her brain buzzed. The face came again, but with more detail. She couldn't place it; her memory was black there, but soft. Fire filled her eyes. She glanced back, finding Damon throwing her a relieved nod. The fire grew brighter.

Kill or run. As it happened, they only watched it all burn.

* * *

Elena ran a hand over her face. Part of it was still warm. The building John bought was now a charred out skeleton with gray smoke rising off of it. Fire crews meandered around the building, talking and waiting until it was stable enough to venture inside. _A burn like that—bodies are incinerated. Metal melts. Gonna be a tough one._ The words of the fire marshal sounded in her head.

"Hey," Stefan said. Elena shook her head.

"I don't understand. John? Bonnie?"

Stefan rubbed her back. "It makes sense, the John part. And Bonnie too. Witches and vampires have a complicated history."

"So complicated that she would lie to me? She would risk killing you and Damon?"

Stefan brought Elena closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder. There was nothing he could say to help her with this. Betrayal for a human—it could be dealt with in a number of ways. For a vampire, it was similar to a stake near the heart. Even after one pulled it out, the ghost of it was still there.

Elena lifted her head and looked up at him. "I'm going to get my things, go home. It's been a long day."

"You want me to come with you?" Stefan asked out of courtesy. Elena smiled and kissed him lightly. "I think we need to be around family tonight. I'll call you when I get home."

Stefan watched her go. Family. He had no clue where Damon went. Gut reaction told him somewhere he shouldn't go, to do something he shouldn't.

* * *

Damon watched from the porch as Elena strolled up the sidewalk. She looked faintly perturbed, as though a minor event put a damper on the whole evening. Jeremy paced upstairs. Jenna and John fought another battle in the war of the pale threats. He leaned against the house, listening to a family on the verge of imploding, watching the girl he loved approach another set of problems.

He shifted slightly. A moment came hurtling towards him. The words were on the tip of his tongue. The revelations tingled the inside of his mouth. Would she listen? He almost died so yes, Elena would accommodate him. She would listen and then…the moment would decide.

Damon slipped into the moonlight, about to call her name as she climbed the porch steps. His lips parted to exclaim but his voice died.

Elena jogged up the steps and reached for the doorbell but then turned. She found Bonnie instantly. They stared at each other and Elena turned and rang the doorbell. Jenna opened the door.

"I think I lost my keys."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Great. Well, at least that's a legit excuse to change the locks so John can't get in. Com on," she said, reaching out for the dress bag Elena carried.

The door shut. Damon turned his ear to the night. The moment hung over him, but there was something wrong. The knowing was instantaneous—he fucked something up. The day streamed before him and then narrowed to a specific point, a point he barely noticed.

* * *

Bonnie tore through the house. She tossed down frames and collages and yearbooks as she inspected them. Photo albums lay half opened on the floor. The face shocked her optic nerves and so the afterimage remained every time she blinked, every time she examined a photograph. There must be some relevance; it must be someone she knew. They were going to die; they were going to stare forever out at her, lips twisted in a scream.

When every photo, every picture had been scanned, Bonnie went upstairs to her room, yanked off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. The room to the bedroom closed and candles flared as Bonnie began to pace.

There had to be an explanation. The face was too vivid to be a dream. And it wasn't a premonition. Was it a memory? Bonnie twisted her fingers. A memory. A memory. A cold place. A cold dark place with a single bluish white light. Bonnie halted midstep.

The scene emerged through a black fog. Damon stood at the bottom of the stairs. She stood in front of the freezer. The metal handle chilled her fingers. The door lifted easily. The first thing Bonnie saw were eyes. Brown eyes. Dull. They were fixed on a point beyond her. Ice lined the eyelashes. Bonnie breathed. The eyes attached to a face. A small, waxy face. A child. It was impossible to discern the sex. Flecks of blood dotted the cheek.

There were two children, one a girl. The purple bow still clung to her long curly brown hair. Her eyes were closed, but her throat was not. A man's body laid at the bottom, his head at an awkward angle. A large pink blotch of frost extended from where his chest would be to his side.

Bonnie blindly searched for what jammed the fridge door. It was a small booted foot, belonging to the child. She pulled at the stiff jean leg and the foot dropped into the makeshift coffin. Bonnie shut the freezer. The darkness was merciful relief to her eyes. But then the small face with the brown eyes stared beyond her. She looked to Damon. Upstairs were vampires. Down here was death. Bonnie thought of fire and nothing else.

Light and sound burst into her consciousness. Bonnie eased herself off the ground and groped for her cell in the half-light of morning.

"Yeah?" Her voice was gravel.

"Bonnie, I need you to come to the hospital."

Dread evaporated the remaining fatigue from her limbs. "Matt? What happened?"

The silence stretched a second too long. "Matt?"

"There was a car accident. Caroline was hurt."

Bonnie covered her face with a hand. Hurt. Matt had been doing this since childhood—turning stab wounds into scratches. Using the decoder of years of intimate knowledge, hurt meant critical condition. Hurt meant slim chance of survival. Hurt meant it was time for family and friends to gather around as though their presence had some mystical healing property.

Maybe Bonnie had access to some mystical healing properties.

"Okay, I'll be there. Ten minutes."

"Okay," he said. She heard the relief and thought of how empty relief could make you feel.

"I'll...I'll be there in ten."

Bonnie sat in the middle of her room. She saw the top of her head in the dresser mirror? Yesterday there was a full-bodied girl with long brown hair and paper bag skin and greenish brown eyes reflected in the glass. Where had the rest of her gone?

The closer Bonnie came to the hospital, the less sure she was of her ability to handle anything more than Caroline having a couple of broken ribs or limbs and a severe concussion. As she approached the third floor ICU nurses' station, Bonnie battled the beginnings of a panic attack.

The nurse looked up from a computer with a mild smile. "Can I help you?"

Bonnie started to shake. "I'm a friend of Caroline Forbes."

The nurse wheeled her chair to the far side of the desk and lifted a blue chart. She examined a sheet for a full minute before returning.

"Ms. Forbes is in surgery. I suggest you take a seat in the waiting room."

Bonnie followed the pointed finger. Matt emerged from the room, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked up and saw her. They stared at each other and then Bonnie had her arms around his middle, her face near his armpit, tears burning her nose and eyes. Matt moved a hand up and down on her back while the other gently massaged an arm. Bonnie heard him swallow and eased up.

"The nurse told me she's in surgery. How bad?"

Matt shook his head. "She collapsed, at the accident scene and," he rubbed his eyes the same way he rubbed his neck, "and she hasn't been awake since. Internal bleeding they said."

Bonnie laid her head on his chest. It occurred to her, listening to his heart beating and the strong intake of air whooshing through his lungs, that from the moment that black crow flew across her path the first day of school, she became estranged from the life she used to know, from the people that used to color her world, from herself. Caroline had to be on the operating table for her to hug one of the best people she knew.

"I'm glad you're here Bon," Matt said.

Bonnie was glad too.

An hour into waiting Bonnie left Matt twisted asleep in a chair and went in search food. The journey to the cafeteria was a confusing trip down a rabbit hole of hallways and locked doors. When she finally arrived, it was a pleasant shock. For all the drab white and tea rose colored stripes, the cafeteria was all glass and clusters of wooden tables. There was a strange clash of smells from the various foods, but it was a good strange.

Bonnie mulled the food offerings and was about to grab a tray when she saw Stefan weaving through the tables with a Styrofoam cup balanced on top of a covered plate. His face was partway between melancholy and his normal placid mask. Bonnie dropped the tray and followed him up to the third floor ICU. She thought he would turn down the corridor to the waiting room but he went straight. Bonnie watched him nod to a person hidden in a room and walk through the electric doors dividing the ward.

She saw Stefan stop at a set of chairs at the far end of the wall. He sat the plate on the chair next to him and then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He looked up the same time Bonnie looked over. Elena swung towards him, turned, disappeared, then did it again. She had a hand in her hair. She was distressed. She always put her hands in her hair when distressed, as though she were about to tear it all out.

Bonnie stood by the doors. She stared hard at Elena, willing her to notice. Stefan's eyes slid to hers and he straightened. Elena paused and turned. Her eyes widened then narrowed but the face around it collapsed. They gazed at each other for no more than a few seconds but for Bonnie it seemed like years. Elena blurred. Bonnie blinked. She was gone.

Bonnie left the hospital. Her head pounded with every step; her stomach was a clenched muscle. She fell to her knees near her car and vomited. All that came out was water and acid.

"Hey, you have a chunk there in your hair."

Bonnie glanced up. Damon stood a few yards away, hands hidden in black jeans. She straightened to stand but a spasm of pain shot down her back. The nerves in her legs tingled.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Damon shrugged. "About as long as you've been kneeling over your vomit. What are you doing, divining forgiveness?"

Her eyes fell to the tip of his shoes. They were scuffed and the leather around it creased as he rocked on his heels. The boots came closer. The panic from earlier returned with blinding acuteness.

Bonnie got to her feet, keeping her back to him and her head down. "What are you doing here?"

"Elena is here."

Bonnie gripped her keys. "Of course." She got in her car. The key was in the ignition. Her hands pressed against the steering wheel. She looked out and found Damon's face framed in the window.

"Where are you going?"

He asked this as he looked at her. Bonnie got the feeling he was really looking. His eyes didn't move in their normally cartoonish way. They skated across her face to come back to examine the block of her eyes and eyebrows and eyelashes. The heat steadily wavered between them, not as hot, but it would get there, eventually.

Where was she going? She asked Damon's blue eyes. They had seen more than a century. She had seen only seventeen years, thirteen of which she could say she firmly remembered. Where was she going? Home? There was no one home. To Grams? She was dead and the house empty. Bonnie raised her eyes to the hospital. Everyone she had left was in that place, a place she just couldn't go into right now. Where was she going?

"I don't have anywhere to go," Bonnie answered. It was such a relief to say something completely and totally honest. Damon straightened. His black shirt rippled in the breeze. The ring he wore caught a bit of sunlight. He tapped his hand on her car door.

"Come with me then," he said. He peered down at her. "You can live the life of a pariah for one hour."

Bonnie drew her lips together. _Come with me then. _There was something serious behind his usual leer. It reminded her of a memory she had discovered, a dark memory, a recollection that involved that same leer. Anger built in Bonnie the longer she stared into his blue eyes.

"I can't, sorry," Bonnie said. Damon stepped back as she started the car and pulled out of the parking space.

She came to the stop sign. Damon filled her rearview mirror. Her head was light and her chest tight. She needed to get out of this place. She needed…pie.

* * *

Damon rarely walked. He liked, as he thought of it, to zip from point A to point B. There were certain advantages to zipping, advantages he compacted under the heading 'Purposiveness'. Walking meant thinking, meant meandering, meant soaking in the environment. It was an activity Damon loved to do as a human. He would forego the horse or the carriage and cut a path through the woods instead of following the dirt road. He walked through fields and meadows and bush, hands in his pockets, face tilted towards the sun or moon in various states.

Bonnie's car disappeared around the corner. The hospital stood tall and white before him. There were things going on in there, things he had no real part of. Damon put his hands in his pockets and started walking.

Mystic hadn't changed much. Except now the apothecary building was a charred out mess and the roads were paved and there were about fifty more storefronts and twice the amount in residences. The main street still, if he was correct, led home.

At some point a dip appeared and the cement turned into packed dirt. Buildings dissolved into trees. The light grew sharper, cleaner. Memory overtook him.

It was night, hot and humid. Torches flickered through the trees. Dogs bayed. He sunk low against a fallen log. A heart beat loud in the air. Breath came out in crashing, rapid bursts. Damon squeezed the small hand holding his. Big brown eyes blinked back at him, the whites brighter than the moon. The torches dropped off down a slope, away from them. He waited another five minutes before grabbing up the little shaking body and running.

He ran to a river and submerged them both in the icy water. It was harder traveling across the water. They nearly went under twice, the force of the river sometimes paralyzing his limbs. Damon and his charge reached the other side and rested on the bank. He was hungry. His charge shivered, both from the cold and from tears. The faint call of dogs reached him and Damon took the child and flew into the woods.

They traveled silently. At some point the child fell asleep in his arms. Damon was glad. The breathing was low and even, like the heart. It calmed him. It was early morning when Damon reached the appointed place. There was a steep recess into the earth, surrounded by rock crawling with the thick roots of thousand-year-old trees and lichen. He climbed down, careful not to jostle the child, and landed on fragrant soil. A flame flickered a few yards ahead. Damon approached with caution.

"That is far enough," a voice called out. A tall man stood beyond the fire. Long black hair flowed over his shoulders. His upper body was painted blue. He wore stitched black cotton pants and no shoes. There was a belt around his waist, a knife tucked into the band. Damon placed a firm hand on the back of the sleeping child.

"I was told there would be another, a woman."

"Only the child was there."

The Indian stared at him with hard black eyes. He raised a hand and threw a handful of dust into the fire. It spit and sparked, flashed white then changed into a waving wall of flame. Damon drew back.

The Indian lifted his eyes to the wall. His dark eyes pierced Damon suddenly. "The woman has been taken. I must take the boy. Pass him through."

"This is insanity. He will burn," Damon said.

"He will not burn. He will be protected by his mother's fire." The Indian opened his arms. "The boy."

The boy moved, waking. Damon set him down and squatted before him. "Simeon, this is where we must part. This man will take you further to safety."

Simeon blinked, turned to see the wall of fire, and looked to Damon with shaking eyes. "It will hurt me," he whispered.

"No, it will not. Come, take my hand," Damon directed. The hand slipped in his. Together they approached the fire. It was excruciating. His flesh began to sizzle. The Indian stepped forward and reached out a hand to the boy.

"Come through, Simeon. It will save your friend."

Simeon hesitated, but pushed his hand through the flames. He quickly looked to Damon, amazed. The Indian grasped the boy's hand and drew him through. Damon sprang back, in a daze from the pain. He looked at the ring on his finger as his hand went from black to red to white.

"The ring works. This was only a precaution against your kind, in case you were followed, in case you thought to come with him. She had no need to worry, I see this now."

Damon gazed at the Indian. Simeon clutched at the painted hand.

"Will he be safe? I promised his mother that he would remain safe."

The Indian turned. Simeon looked at Damon, his brown eyes filling with tears. Damon leapt to his feet. The world went dark in an instant. His eyes adjusted and there was no one, nothing, not even the hint of smoke from the fire.

_The woman has been taken._

Damon blinked rapidly. The sun broke apart the night. He stood on the opposite side of a two-lane road. Across the way was Goosie's. Bonnie sat at a window booth, eating something that made her close her eyes and grin.

So this was where his feet led him. Damon toyed with the idea of disturbing her. He needed a distraction and what better than a guilty witch with a confused set of sensibilities? He set a foot on the black hard top. Bonnie took another bite. All the trite digs and worn conversation starters died with the movement of her jaw. If he went in there, something would happen. He knew it. The moment still clung to him. Memories were assailing him. He might kill her. He might...Damon slipped his hands into his jean's pockets and turned towards Mystic Falls. _She can have her cake, _Damon said.

* * *

There was comfort in pie, so Bonnie ordered a whole apple and currant pie, warmed, with a bowl of vanilla ice cream and a tall glass of tart lemonade. It was instant, gratuitous bliss.

Of course, bliss was dependent upon what created it. The bubble popped with the clink of the fork against the bottom of the metal plate. Bonnie pushed the plate and the bowl aside and laid her cell on the table. She told Matt to call her once he heard news. Good or bad, she would return to the nightmare that was swiftly becoming her waking life.

Her cell phone rattled on the Formica.

"Matt?"

"She's okay, Bon. She made it through. She's in the ICU."

Bonnie pressed a hand to her mouth and nose. Tears spilled over her knuckles. She inhaled deeply, swallowing the rising tears. "I'm coming back."

Matt told her the room and Bonnie paid as quick as she could. Fifteen miles from Mystic Falls and the sky turned a magnificent storm grey. Bonnie groaned as hard drops of water hit her windshield. It would rain the day she forgot her umbrella at home. She turned on her lights. Through the downpour she saw a figure ahead. The familiar gait, the boots, and the leather jacket told her who it was. Bonnie debated passing him but found herself pulling alongside him.

"Need a ride?"

Damon glanced over at her. She counted to five silently. On four he got in. His hair was plastered to his head. Rivulets of rainwater ran down his neck and disappeared beneath the black t-shirt he wore. Damon scrubbed his scalp and drops of water sprinkled the side of her face.

"Thanks," he said.

"What were you doing out here?"

"Walking."

"Walking?" Bonnie asked. Damon peeled off the leather jacket. "And when it started raining, why didn't you scamper off?"

"Vampires don't scamper, Bennett. They zip. Well some zoom, but that's beside the point."

"The point is?"

"Why you stopped."

Quiet filled the car. The air became muggy. Bonnie had difficulty breathing. Damon stared at her. His eyes heated the side of her face and neck. Her hand itched to rub at them but she gripped the wheel and shrugged.

"I'm going to the hospital," Bonnie responded.

"Okay."

Bonnie said nothing. The quiet stretched. If she didn't know any better, she would think they were so accustomed to each other, they didn't need to speak. It was a little strange, though, to find him as she came back. Bonnie opened her mouth to comment but the quiet was too thick to overcome so they sat there, wondering about each other, about themselves, about the people waiting for them back in Mystic Falls, and about what tomorrow would look like.


	9. Gnats

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews, alerts, and favorites. Enjoy.

* * *

Gnats

Elena paced the length of the corridor. She promised Stefan she would at least take a break from prowling the hospital and get some air, but a new scene would mean thinking and thinking would lead to worst-case scenarios and recriminations…and she was tired of thinking.

Her cell rang. The display forced her to answer.

"I'm guessing you are…pacing."

Elena rolled her eyes and stopped. "For once you're wrong."

"You rolled your eyes."

Elena snuck a glance in both directions. "Sometimes I wonder about you and your stalker tendencies Stefan Salvatore."

"Not stalking. I know you. Did you at least eat?"

Elena remained silent and Stefan sighed. "I can stop by the Grill and get you something. Burger and fries, no pickles, right?"

Elena barely heard the question. Bonnie was at the nurses' station, signing her name.

"Uh, I'll call you back. I have to talk to someone."

She hung up and started down the hall the same time the ICU doors unlocked and slowly swung wide. Bonnie saw Elena approaching and closed her face completely. They met in the middle of the hall, the space between them an ocean.

"I'm here to see Caroline," Bonnie said.

"I…"

Bonnie glanced down at the floor then back at Elena. "I should have been honest with you. But it wouldn't have changed anything. I couldn't let it continue Elena, I couldn't just…fall in line."

It was the best apology Bonnie was willing to give. Elena stared at her for a full minute before blinking. Before Stefan and vampires, before the bridge, before everything changed, there was the two of them.

"Let's go see Caroline."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. Elena mimicked the action.

"Okay."

* * *

Damon tapped the bar top and the good bartender topped off the Hennessey. A second later the liquid sloshed down his throat.

Alaric sat on the stool next to him. He nodded to the bartender and treated Damon to a quick appraisal. Damon swung his head around with a sloppy nod. Alaric frowned and Damon smiled.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?"

Damon nodded. "Oh, I know. That's why I'm here. Drinking. Did I drunk dial you?'

Alaric reached for the beer the bartender set in front of him. "You did. But don't think I came running over here to prevent you from making a total ass of yourself."

Alaric took a long drink and sat back with a defeated sigh. "I never thought I'd be babysitting the guy who killed my wife."

"That's so…wacky. Truly, in the true sense of the word. Wacky. I never thought I could go from zero to monster to zero again in two centuries. I thought I'd hit half a millennia before…" Damon paused as more Hennessey filled the glass.

"Before what? Before humanity caught up with you?"

Damon lifted his glass. "Exactly."

"I'm lost here. What happened in the hours since I last saw you?"

"I went to see Jeremy, told him about Anna, gave him some rather sage advice that I think he misconstrued as a legitimate excuse to kill himself." Damon waited for the usual condemnation but none came. He turned to Alaric, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

Alaric finished the beer and ordered another. "Really," he said.

They drank in silence for a few minutes. "So that's it?" Alaric asked.

"I think it should be enough, at least it should be good enough for getting trashed."

"Not good enough, sorry. What else happened?"

"I went walking. I never walk. And while walking I remembered the late 1800s. Not a good time. For anyone. Bad fashion, not enough flesh showing, no dancing except at balls. I remembered. It started raining and," Damon brought the drink to his lips, "the witch picked me up and dropped me here. And here I've stayed."

"Here? How long?"

"Since five o'clock yesterday."

Alaric nodded. "The witch then. Bonnie?"

"No, Baba Iaga."

Alaric rolled the sweating bottle between his fingers. He had on his intrepid reporter face.

"I've been meaning to ask about this new partnership."

"I would never replace you, Rick. Especially not with a lithe, good looking teenage girl with a shitload of power."

A wry smile was the only response Damon received and he scowled into his glass. He came here to drink, not think about Bonnie. He'd rather think about a stake through his heart. Or, better yet, about Elena. Bonnie's profile came to mind as she drove. She was small, like Emily. Small where Elena was tall and willowy.

Drinking wasn't working. Damon swallowed the rest of the Hennessey, said good riddance to Alaric, struggled into his leather jacket, and ambled out of the Grill into a light drizzle.

Being in one of his more relaxed moods, Damon headed towards the hospital. He hoped Elena would be there and Stefan would be absent. He needed the confirmation of place and time and reason that only Elena provided. He needed her brown eyes looking at him with annoyance or gratitude or concern. Hell, he might not do anything provocative except sit there next to her and be. Damon grinned. What a surprise _that_ would be.

Of course, some divine mover and shaker decided to screw him as soon as he reached the second floor ICU.

Bonnie and Elena stood at the nurses' station, engaged in a heated conversation. From the look of Elena's mournful expression and Bonnie's clenched fist, it was most likely a topic that needed his special brand of conflict resolution.

Elena spotted him first. She immediately straightened and flashed him a warning glance.

"Hey, doe eyes, missed me?"

Bonnie turned and the two girls suppressed the same sigh.

"Damon, not now."

Elena stepped from Bonnie to stand between them. It was an unconscious defensive maneuver Damon never got tired of.

"So, what's with all the Sweet Valley whispering? Divulging more secrets, Bonnie?"

Elena wrinkled her brow. "What secrets?" She looked to Bonnie. "What is he talking about?"

Bonnie shrugged. "Don't know or care. Damon is not my concern right now."

"And who is?"

Elena sighed. "It's Caroline. She's…"

"There's bleeding they can't control. She is going to die if we don't start exploring options," Bonnie said.

They glared at each other. Damon coughed. "Ladies, settle down. Now, Bonnie," he smiled, "what options are you considering?"

"Not options. _Option._ As in vampire blood," Elena said.

Damon widened his eyes. "I think I might need to hear that again."

Bonnie ignored him. "Elena, can't you see this is the only way? This is _Caroline_. If we can do something, we have to do it."

"But it's too risky."

"Too risky? She is going to _die_."

"She might die with vampire blood in her system and then what do we do?"

"Elena—"

"Bonnie—"

"I'll do it."

Elena and Bonnie whipped around to look at him.

"What?"

"I said," Damon grinned, "I'll do it. Caroline and I…have history and perhaps, if I thought about it real hard, I might feel some sort of remorse for what I did to her. So what better way to expiate my sins than saving sweet Caroline?"

Elena shook her head. "Damon, that's very…kind of you but—"

"Do it," Bonnie cut in.

Elena grabbed Bonnie's arm. "Are you kidding me? Stefan maybe, but Damon? You're really going to trust this to Damon?"

"He's here, isn't he?"

Bonnie turned her attention to him. "Do it. She'll be safe long enough to heal and have the blood pass out of her system. So do it."

Damon remained still as she brushed past him. Heat licked his entire body and he knew she was playing it cool. He clamped his jaw and resisted the urge to call her back. They would talk later.

"Would you like to tell me what the hell is going on between you two?"

Damon shook his head. "Not really."

"Damon."

"Elena."

She stared him down but he only grinned and slipped an arm around her. "You're cute when you're apprehensive."

Elena stepped from him. "Damon, Jeremy and John almost died last night. I almost lost them. I almost lost you too," she searched his face for a moment. The fog of alcohol dissipated in an instant. Damon waited. If he had a functioning heart, it would be hammering.

Elena clasped her hands together and sighed. She looked away from him. "I almost lost Bonnie too. I don't know what's happening, but do me a favor," her eyes came to his, "don't help her if you plan on hurting her later."

Damon died a little more. This was what he earned for everything he did, a plea to be selfless. And not on behalf of Elena. On behalf of the witch.

Words were edging past his lips when Jenna interrupted him.

"Elena, do you have the spare keys I lent you? I asked Alaric to stay with Jeremy while I'm at work and you're at school," Jenna gave her a pointed look.

Elena frowned. "What spare keys? When?"

"The spare keys from like two nights ago. The night of utter hell. You came home, didn't have your keys, you left your purse too but managed to grab your dress."

Elena stared at her aunt as if she spoke gibberish. "Jenna, my dress was taken and I had my keys."

"No Elena, you…"

Elena shook her head. She gathered her hair in a frustrated ponytail. Damon reached out to touch the chain resting on her collarbone. Both women shared a look.

"Did you forget your necklace last night?"

Elena threw up her hands. "No. Can I ask why you would even ask that question?"

Damon rewound the hours to Elena walking up the steps. One of the porch lights was broken, but the moon was bright that night. The sheen of her hair attracted his eyes like magnets. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck. Long and graceful, white.

The realization stuck him in the gut. "Shit."

Elena took his arm. "Damon, are you okay?"

He gazed at her, then at Jenna. "I think Stefan might have the keys." He turned to Elena. "Remember you said something about giving the spare to Stefan?" His eyes widened for a second before looking at Jenna. "He's with Jon."

Jenna looked to Elena for confirmation. "Yeah, Damon's right. Sorry," Elena said. Jenna sighed and departed. When she was gone from view Damon took Elena aside.

"Go home, call Stefan. Tell him he needs to come over and stay there."

"Damon, what's going on?"

"Just…humor me, please."

Elena gripped his arm. "I want to know immediately, Damon. Whatever is going on."

Damon nodded. After traveling the world, she showed up on her porch.

* * *

"So Katherine is back in Mystic Falls?"

"How did you even know it was Katherine?"

"I told you, the damn necklace."

"You were lurking on the porch, weren't you?"

"Yes, okay, you caught me. Are we going to pull out the knives and produce a musical number?"

"Enough. Who cares about this right now when Katherine is in town, impersonating me and stabbing people," Elena looked between Stefan and Damon. Both men started to pace. Bonnie sat in an armchair, elbows on her knees. This month kept taking a shit on life in general.

"Katherine," Stefan murmured.

"She's back and she's nasty," Damon said.

"She sounds like a venereal disease," Bonnie responded. Three pairs of eyes landed on her. Surprisingly it was Stefan who quirked his lips.

Bonnie cleared her throat. "Katherine's back in town. Sorry to interrupt the planning. Continue."

Elena pressed a hand to her forehead. "She tried to kill John."

"Then that's one good thing—she tried and failed. Now we get to kill him," Damon said.

"We get to talk to him," Stefan amended.

"And while you're chatting up Daddy Dearest, what are we going to do about security? The bitch was invited in."

Again, the eyes fell on Bonnie.

"Well?"

Bonnie gritted her teeth against Damon's tone. "Not a dog, can't perform tricks on command."

"Bonnie, is there a spell that—"

"There are, but I ward off one vampire, I have to ward off all vampires," Bonnie cut in. Stefan looked to Elena, who gave a curt shake of the head.

"You're kidding me. You can't tweak the spell a little?" Damon asked.

"No. I would have to draft a new spell but—"

"Then whisper some words over a bubbling cauldron."

Blood rushed in her ears. "I'm not that advanced."

Damon sighed heavily. "I should have guessed the extent of your power was pyromania with a little special effects action thrown in."

"Shut up, Damon," Stefan said.

"No, it's fine." Bonnie stood, "maybe he can stuff the heart back into that witch he killed and use her." Bonnie grabbed her bag. "Call me later," she said to Elena.

Elena caught her arm as Bonnie strode out the front door.

"I'm sorry."

"Why? I don't have a crazy homicidal vampire stalking my every move."

"Katherine or Damon?"

They shared a smile. Elena let go of her arm and fiddled with the necklace. "It seems as though one thing ends and another thing begins."

Bonnie shouldered her bag. "I'm going to go home and see if I can find something, anything."

Elena ran her hands down her face. "Bonnie, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"For tonight at least, can you cast that spell warding off all vampires? I…I want to feel safe. For one night."

Bonnie read the need in Elena's eyes. It took her a moment to remember that Elena had no spells to protect her, no special abilities, no rings of invulnerability. She was human. Jeremy and Jenna were human. Last year they were worried about summer festivities. This year it was about survival. Bonnie hugged her.

"At least you asked. I was going to do it anyway."

* * *

Bonnie bent to replace the withered lilacs with a fresh bouquet. She brushed leaves from the flat black marble headstone, her fingers absently tracing Gram's name. No power marked Gram's resting place, only the black stone and a copper vase of flowers.

The cemetery was quiet and empty after the funeral procession for Mayor Lockwood. She fled after giving her condolences to Mrs. Lockwood and Tyler. The words seemed empty coming from her.

It didn't make sense though. Nothing made sense. Katherine was in town and they were scrambling around without a fucking clue.

"I need help Grams," Bonnie said aloud. She knelt. She waited. A breeze lifted her hair. Wind chimes sounded yards away. A dragonfly flit past her. She had read in Gram's journal a prayer to nature, the Mother of witches. It had said something about listening to the wind, to the buzz of an insect and the whisper of flowers as they moved. In these sounds, it had said, was the answer.

Bonnie thought it was bullshit but that was when she was just beginning, when Grams was alive, when vampires were confined to books and films. She needed answers. She sat with her legs folded and closed her eyes. The sun warmed her face and neck. Breeze cooled the sweat on her brow.

"You're listening."

Bonnie scrambled to her feet. Violet eyes tracked her movements as she pressed against the nearest headstone.

"Akiri," Bonnie said.

Akiri tipped her head. "Bonnie." She set a single stem of white orchids next to the lilacs and stepped back with her head bowed. Bonnie stared at the other witch. Akiri was radically different from the Akiri she met in West Virginia. Her coppery brown hair was pulled back in a loose bun. She had on red lipstick and dark eye shadow. Like everyone else in town Akiri dressed in black, from her stud earrings to the trench coat, to the heels.

"What are you doing here?" Bonnie asked.

"I am curious about you, and this place," Akiri said.

"Curious about me?"

"And this place, don't forget."

Bonnie smiled. It was startling how good it felt, to smile without any grudges, or because it was expected.

Akiri surveyed her. "The last time I saw you, you were on a mission. Did it end the way you expected?"

Bonnie glanced away. Akiri took her hands from her pockets. She stretched out a thin leather bound book to her. Bonnie restrained from automatically reaching for it. There was power in the palm of Akiri's hand, waiting to be read and applied. But if Bonnie had learned just one thing this past year, it was to always look a gift horse in the mouth.

"What is it?"

Akiri ran a hand over the smooth black leather. "A grimoire. Not as thick as most, but it is the first I had ever read. I learned from this. I still learn from it."

Bonnie had it in her hands without another thought. "Why?"

Akiri turned in a slow circle. She audibly inhaled and closed her eyes. The slight breeze turned into a steadily increasing wind. The clouds parted and the sun grew brighter. "You are young, Bonnie, but the world is not. It is in us to harness the power around us, shape the natural world, control its abominations if we cannot destroy them."

Bonnie gasped when the wind died suddenly and the light turned dark gray. There was a snap and flame danced along the tips of Akiri's fingers. Bonnie envied the control Akiri displayed. Akiri read it plain on her face. She made a fist and it was as though nothing had ever happened.

"How did you—"

"I can teach you to manage your power."

Bonnie turned the book over and over. The draw of it overwhelmed her senses. The image of the freezer and the gutted building wavered before her. Every time she used her power, it was in defense of someone else. Never for her benefit, never to do as she would. But that could be different. Akiri offered her control.

"Before we start, I have a question."

Akiri folded her arms behind her back. "Ask."

"What do you know about writing spells?"

* * *

Things happened backwards in the South. Damon used to respond to that statement with slow, but as he lounged at the bar at the wake for Mayor Lockwood, he had to agree.

"Who has a wake three days after the funeral?" Damon had asked his brother as they searched for a set of keys.

"It's not a wake, it's a," Stefan stopped to think, "a remembrance get together."

"Oh, so it's a wake. Because that's exactly what it is, a wake."

"As long as there's liquor and the opportunity to be a total dick, why should it matter?"

Damon drank to that. He forgot how well Stefan knew him. Did he know Stefan as well? There was a prick at the back of his neck. The couple had arrived. Damon drained the liquid from the ice. The prospect of facing them together, in public, supportive and so very, very human tempted him towards another drink. Instead he ordered a cranberry cocktail and slipped into the closest room.

A magnificent spread of finger foods lined the middle of the cleared side room. It was a good thing he ate well this morning—the mini quiches and cucumber sandwiches were about to be demolished.

"So, any theories?"

Damon popped a slice of brioche in his mouth and chewed before turning. Bonnie perused the oblong white plates. She ran a finger along the white tablecloth as she cast him a sidelong glance.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. He reached beyond her for a shrimp crostini. "You're gonna have to be a tad more specific."

"Mayor Lockwood's death? Caroline's accident?"

"Your guilt?"

Bonnie compressed her lips. "Why does it concern you?"

"Because you're so much more amiable when you're miserable."

"Focus, Damon. Mayor Lockwood was in that basement. Tyler Lockwood drove the car Caroline was in. Neither are vampires and yet they seemed to be effected by the watch. Why?"

Damon bit into a carrot. "Do I have to guess?" He went to dip the rest of the carrot in a bowl of ranch dressing. Bonnie slipped her hand around his wrist.

"Don't be a total ass. Double dipping is disgusting."

Damon raised his arm despite her grip and ate the rest of the carrot. Bonnie scowled. "This was a mistake. I don't even know…"

"That makes two of us. What do I care about two aggressive alpha males spazzing out the night of your great mistake? I have an uber vampire bitch to kill. So if you know a way to find her and kill her, I'm all ears."

Bonnie stared at him. Damon nodded slowly, working his hands. "Come on, there are quiches to eat and whiskey to drink."

"Then go and eat them."

Bonnie swept off. Damon turned to the quiches but his blood-induced appetite vanished. He had a chill all of a sudden, as if the heat was sucked from him. He didn't know what she wanted. No contact in three days and there she was with all that damn warmth, green eyes flitting over his features, drawing him back into whatever covert operation she had going.

"Damon, hey."

Elena put a hand on his shoulder and drew him around. Her hair fell around her like streams of brown silk. Her forehead wrinkled in concern. "Are you okay?"

Damon gazed upon her face. Katherine had never looked at him with such soft eyes. She never wrinkled her brow either. If only Elena kissed him, ran her hand lightly along his jaw, rested her head on his chest. If only life just fell the way he wanted for once in his long, unnatural life.

"No. Excuse me," Damon said. Milking Elena for all her sympathy and long looks paled in comparison to finding out what the witch wanted. So, like a dumbass, Damon walked away from the woman he wanted and sought out Bonnie.

* * *

Stupid. Stupid. Colossally dumb, idiotic, and…stupid. Bonnie stood on the back porch and breathed. The smirk should have warned her. She should have played along, threatened him with an aneurysm, and end it. But no, no, she foolishly believed the nagging small voice in her head; it pushed her to say something to the only real partner she had in this whole vampire killer thing.

Well, _she_ was perfectly capable of figuring out the Lockwood mystery. Bonnie played with her bracelets. It _was _a mystery. The spell for the watch was detailed down to the second. The wording was specific. _Vampires. _Unless Emily added a term last minute, there was no way the Lockwoods could have been affected.

Bonnie had even questioned Akiri on the subject, but the other witch only tapped her mouth and made her work on extended levitation.

She looked out over the lawn. Sprinklers ticked back and forth. Fractured light made graceful arches over beaded grass. Bonnie breathed deep. Energy buzzed in the air. The hard click of boots sounded behind her. A slight swagger, the clink of ice against a glass, silence.

"A peace offering." A glass half full of cranberry juice sat in front of her on the railing. Damon leaned against it. "I added a cap of vodka, just so you know I'm being serious."

He was not smirking this time. Only looking. Bonnie looked at the drink then at his face. It was an attractive face. It was wide open at the moment. She could say anything and not know what would happen. This was the unpredictable Damon. She could tell him to come with her and he might go. She could tell him she hadn't stopped thinking about the silence between them that day she picked him up in the rain. She could tell him a plethora of things.

"Are there other things out there besides witches and vampires?" she asked.

Damon blinked. "Humans. Animals. Insects."

"Other supernatural things then," Bonnie said.

"I only know of you and I."

"Are you sure? You've never heard of like, I don't know," Bonnie shook her head, "ghosts, changelings, things like that?"

"I have never met the Monster Mash crew, no," Damon said, grinning. Bonnie released a rush of air.

"It doesn't make sense."

"You know what doesn't make sense?" Bonnie sent him a quizzical look. "Our little partnership. I thought it ended upon reentry to Mystic Falls."

Bonnie shrugged. "I never had that impression."

"Really? As far as I know, all the tomb vampires are dead."

"Yeah, but the one that got away is back and from the look of things, it is far from over. We can always resume our regularly scheduled open hatred for each other though, if that's what you want."

Damon raised an eyebrow. He turned to stand beside her. "I can't say I miss that schedule."

"It would make life easier, wouldn't it?"

Damon looked down at her. "Life is never easy, Bonnie. It's just more or less difficult."

The heat crept across her chest and up her neck. What was he looking at so intently? She merely looked for the sake of it. He had such a compelling face when it wasn't covered in blood or snarling or emitting asshole vibes.

"I have to go. Let me know if you have any ideas."

Bonnie left him on the porch. Damon picked up the drink and drank it. "Meeting adjourned."


	10. Crows

**A/N**: Sorry about the delay. This chapter is the beginning of a marked departure from the show. Enjoy.

* * *

Crows

Bonnie remained awake while the entire house slept. Elena hung partially off the bed, most of the comforter wrapped around her. The door to the hall was open, as well as the connecting doors to Jeremy's room. She heard him toss and turn every so often.

The clock read 2:45 am. Bonnie sat up. Her stomach rumbled. In the midst of Jeremy Watch and burning Damon in effigy, she had forgotten to eat. Bonnie crept downstairs to the kitchen. She snuck a couple of homemade cookies to go along with the sandwich she made and sat in the dark in the dining room.

"Hey, did you make me one of those?"

Jeremy snickered when she jumped and dropped the sandwich. Bonnie glowered at him. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Nah, I've got this crick right here." Jeremy rubbed his neck.

"You died and came back a comedian. Great."

He sat next to her at the table and stole a cookie. "I though we weren't allowed to mention me and death in the same sentence."

Bonnie plucked what was left of the cookie from his hand. "I didn't mention 'He Who Shall Not Be Mentioned'. And stop stealing my food!" Jeremy jerked back as she hit his hand.

"I think you should be nice to me. I'm traumatized."

Bonnie narrowed her eyes. Unlike Elena, who had a minor breakdown when Damon proceeded to do the unthinkable, Jeremy seemed a little too...fine. He had been appropriately upset but after a couple of hours it seemed to be for Elena's benefit.

"You're wondering if there's something wrong with me. Okay," Jeremy stood up with her cookie plate. Bonnie blinked.

"Hey, now, get your own."

"I am. I'm just adding your portion to mine."

Bonnie followed him to the kitchen. Seeing him outlined by the refrigerator light sent a chill through her. She cleared her throat. "Wanna see the coolest thing you will see today?"

Before Jeremy could respond the kitchen lights came on as well as all the appliances. The noise caused them both to jump then laugh.

"I'm surprised Jenna hasn't come running in here with her blow torch," Jeremy said a minute later.

Bonnie shook her head, incredulous. "No way."

"I was stoned and tried breaking into the house. Blow torch was on, but it was the blue stuff on her face that freaked me the fuck out."

Bonnie tried not to laugh but out it came. She caught Jeremy staring at her with a soft smile on his face and his eyes bright. Soft smile and bright eyes led to softer smiles and brighter eyes. She remembered then that it was the dead of the night, her tank top left little to the imagination and she wore what Elena classified as a second pair of underwear. And Jeremy...Jeremy was not that scrawny kid who exemplified the typical bratty younger brother.

Jeremy poured himself a glass of milk. "I can't sleep so I thought I'd watch The Weather Channel." He replaced the milk and brought out a carton of sweet tea.

"Peace offering." He handed her a glass of sweet tea. Her favorite drink. Bonnie mulled over what this meant. Surely he wasn't hitting on her. Surely not, no. And if he was, so what? He deserved a free pass, considering what that asshole did to him and his sister.

"Bring the cookies."

"I get half that sandwich."

Bonnie paused. "Deal."

* * *

"It's going to be a balmy 72 degrees in Mystic Falls, Bonnie. You know what that means!"

"Only one thing Jeremy—a great day to stake a vampire or two."

They high-fived each other. Jeremy eased back into the couch. Four cookies and a quarter piece of sandwich remained on the plate. Bonnie nibbled on a piece of bread, her head tilted at the screen.

"So."

"So."

Jeremy glanced at her. "Are you really going to bring Damon within an inch of his life?"

"I don't know. Probably not an inch. Maybe a centimeter."

"Oh."

Bonnie tilted her head back to look at him. "Care to share your thoughts?"

"I might still be off due to the whole resurrection thing, but," Jeremy hesitated, "before he snapped my neck, he said something. And I didn't get it immediately-"

"-because you were killed-"

"Yeah, but afterwards, I understood. I understand."

Jeremy fell silent, gluing his eyes to the screen. Bonnie agreed with Jeremy still being out of sorts, but she didn't dismiss the defense of Damon, as cryptic as it was. There had to be a quality Jeremy and Stefan saw in Damon that kept him alive. Bonnie struggled to figure it out. She gave up in the time it took to eat a cookie.

"I'm not Elena, but I view it the way she does-Damon murdered you. You. And we don't even know if he saw the ring. So, we are going to flip out. We are going to hate him. We are going to make his life as uncomfortable as humanly possible because we love you Jeremy. But," Bonnie sighed, "but 'we' does not have to include you."

"So, going back to my original question..."

Bonnie lifted a shoulder. "I don't know."

"He's kinda important and powerful."

"He's an ass."

Jeremy tipped his head in agreement. "You're kinda important and powerful too. That trick with the lights, totally badass."

"Shut up and drink your milk."

Jeremy did as directed.

* * *

There was a point. It manifested as well-defined, perfectly spherical dot right at the end of sentence. The point marked the second between inaction and action. Between pathetic desperation and cold blooded spite. And it looked the same no matter how much Damon squinted at it or tried to place it in a different context or view it under the influence of blood, booze, or boobs. Or all three, preferably. No matter what he did or didn't do, he couldn't redraw the point. He had smudged it, erased it, snapped it like he snapped Jeremy's neck.

Fuck the point. He had his moment, completely ruined it, and now he was left to some middling existence whenever the supernatural (i.e. him) wasn't raising hell. He had to get back into the swing of malignancy. He had to find something to do besides think about Katherine rejecting his mushy humanity for Stefan's mushy humanity and then Elena playing up her doppelganger role down to the, "It will always be Stefan," bit.

Of course, Damon was content to let that something find him. And it did.

Caroline a vampire. Stefan and Elena running around like headless chickens. Another Vicki scenario. Perfect.

He stalked the carnival grounds, a stake in his back pocket. Caroline most definitely would kill tonight. All these blood bags walking around. Damon counted seven opportunities in as many minutes to grab and drain. He spotted Matt at a shooting game. Now where would a fresh teenage vampire go on her first night out? Easy pickings.

Damon tailed Matt from ride to stall to ride. On the way to the carousel a boy dumped soda on his black Diesel jeans. It took considerable restraint to not kill. He shoved the kid away and scanned the area. Matt had disappeared.

"Dammit."

The carousel started. Damon sighed, frustrated. He gazed absently at the passing prancing horses and ornate chariots. A laugh broke clear of the noise. He looked up at the same time Bonnie whirred by on the back of bucking stallion, one hand loosely holding onto a golden post. She was smiling and talking with a group of girls. His eyes followed her around and around. On the third rotation Bonnie saw him. The smile died and her eyes shuttered.

They exchanged a look as the carousel came to a stop. Age may have made him crazy, but not rash. He knew shit list when he saw it, and he knew what stewed behind that pretty face. So when he started towards her, it was a definite sign of madness.

"You have a minute to speak, threaten, or amuse yourself. After that, I get to do whatever I want to you."

Bonnie stood off to the side, away from her friends. Damon wiggled his fingers at them and they started grinning and affecting shyness.

"See, that's the kind of greeting I expect. I wonder what they'll do if I raise an eyebrow."

"I know what _I'll_ do. Forty-five seconds."

"You despise me because of the Jeremy situation."

"Only more, if that's possible."

"Yet a month ago I would've been on fire for the sake of existing…oh wait, I was."

"I assume there's a point here. Make it fast—twenty seconds."

Damon waved aside her threat. "Have you seen Caroline?"

"Caroline?" Bonnie's brow wrinkled. "She's still in the hospital. Why would she be here?"

Elena hadn't told her yet. Damon didn't want to spoil the reveal for her, so he merely grinned. "Oh, I thought I saw her running around here, causing trouble."

A petite redhead detached herself from the group. She sent a cautious grin to Damon before tugging on Bonnie's arm. "Bonnie, come on! The line for the tilt-o-whirl is ridiculous."

"Yeah, that line is in-sane, Bonnie. You should listen to…"

"Damon, go home and get drunk."

Bonnie took her friend and rejoined the group. Damon watched them stumble over each other on the way to another ride. He smiled at each and every over-the-shoulder glance. These high school girls got easier and easier as the decades wore on. All the decent girls were either dead, taken, or…the laughter came again. Witches.

Damon turned with a tight draw of his lips and dissolved into the crowd.

* * *

All that blood.

Bonnie squeezed soap on to her palms and lathered her arms, scrubbing the dirt from under her nails. The cute guy with the nice smile was buried deep in the forest somewhere between Mystic and North Carolina. She never knew his name. She lost his story. Damon had emptied his pockets and discarded the wallet and keys in a river miles away. Bonnie and Elena stood together by the fresh mound, quiet. Elena had wanted to speak, but owls hushed her. Bonnie thanked the owls.

It was a simple matter of coincidence. She spotted Caroline one minute and the next she was drying her arms after a hard night of burying a body. Bonnie ventured a look at her reflection. The girl there was a stranger, a glamour. Akiri would have been proud to see it. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut. The reversal spell flowed from her mouth. Once. Twice. Thrice. When she looked again, Bonnie Bennett, the high school junior cheerleader from Mystic Falls, Virginia would be in the mirror.

Bonnie opened her eyes. It was Bonnie Bennett the witch who stared back. The mirror shattered.

* * *

Damon handed Elena a cup of coffee. She held her face to the steam before taking a drink. He had sweetened it the way she liked, with and added a packet of cream. Suddenly she missed Stefan. He always forgot the cream

Damon rubbed her arm and Elena held back the tears. One thing after another after another. Her plate was in danger of cracking and making a mess all over the place. She couldn't talk about it to Damon. He didn't understand and in a few hours she would remember to hate him. She didn't think Stefan would understand either. He would listen to her, say all the right words with the right amount of softness, but he wouldn't understand. Elena looked to the restroom.

Another five minutes went by. Elena started to get nervous. Damon was on the phone with Stefan. She threw away the coffee cup and went to the restroom. One of the sinks was on. Glass crunched beneath her feet. The steel frame that held the mirror hung off the wall.

"Bonnie?"

Bonnie turned to Elena. She blinked. Elena came closer. She turned off the sink and reached for Bonnie's shoulder. Her skin was hot and her eyes were a glassy green.

"What the hell?"

Damon looked to Bonnie and Elena. "What happened?"

Bonnie covered Elena's hand. "Caroline is dead."

"No, Bonnie. She's alive."

"She died Elena. And a man is dead. Are we going to pretend he didn't exist because we didn't know his name?" Bonnie searched her face. "Do you know his name?"

Tears rolled from her eyes. No, Elena didn't know his name. She began to cry. Bonnie wrapped a burning arm around her friend. The tears refused to come. A white hand from her dreams held them back. Bonnie locked eyes with Damon. Her eyes were as clear as his, as closed off and as alien as his eyes when the switch was flipped.

* * *

A vacuum formed the moment Elena exited the car. Damon sent Elena a pleading glare but she ignored him. His neck tingled. Elena and Bonnie exchanged a glance and then Bonnie's eyes found his in the rearview mirror.

The ensuing fifteen minutes were one of the most uncomfortable in his life. He heard her breathing, heard her heart beating, heard her clothes rustle against her skin and the seat when she moved, smelled the dirt on the bottom of her shoes, smelled the trace of perfume and pine and sweat. The sensations were negligible compared to the feel of her eyes on his neck and shoulder. He wanted to brush a hand over the skin, to brush away the buzzing, pricking creature but the creature was in her eyes, and he couldn't reach those.

The air grew humid and heavy. He set the air conditioning to high but if anything it grew steamier. He looked into the rearview mirror and into the same limpid green stare. What a poker face.

Damon pulled to a stop in front of her house. The place was dark and probably empty. Bonnie didn't move. He wanted her to swiftly depart, he wanted it as badly as he wanted to go home and…get drunk. Damon turned off the car and they sat in a silence that had all the volume of confrontation.

"It was you." Bonnie said it so softly he wouldn't have heard it if he was human.

"You have this penchant for blanket statements."

"Okay." Bonnie touched her temple. "It was you who went into my head. You screwed with my memory."

Well. Damon had forgotten about the episode in West Virginia. She could not have blindsided him better if she said she wanted him. They all want him eventually. Something had gone wrong with the dreamwalking, which meant something had gone wrong with _him._ Christ. It worked on the witch in France in '62. Vampires grew more potent as time wore on, right? Damon suppressed the unfamiliar press of fear. Bonnie was waiting for a denial.

"I did. I incepted you. Or at least tried."

Bonnie shook her head. "Why would you…how could you do that? I don't understand." She looked at him. Her eyes were opaque, unreadable, natural. "Why?"

"Because," Damon sighed. How to explain. It had nothing to do with self-preservation or his pledge of allegiance to Elena. Bonnie was powerful. She was an asset, a great card in a not so stacked deck. It wouldn't do if she got fucked up before the real shit hit the fan. He needed her sharp, willing to do what it took, but not unhinged.

"I wanted to protect you." It was the simplest, most veracious reason that didn't sound like utter bullshit.

A brittle laugh was her response. "Protect me?" Her face went dark. "All you do is harm me. Everyone you protect ends up either hating you or worse off than before. I don't want it."

Damon clenched his jaw. "You don't hate me, Bonnie. And you're alive. How is that worse off than dead?"

The humidity jumped a few dew points. "I don't hate you, Damon. I loathe you. Nothing affects you. The family in the freezer meant nothing to you. Caroline means nothing to you. Burying a man means nothing. Just as well, right? Because you do whatever you want, fuck everyone else."

Bonnie swung the car door open. Cool air rushed in and it fanned the spark of anger at her words. The car shook as the door slammed. That nettled him even further.

The witch was quick. She flew into her house and used her power to shut the door and bar the entrance of any vampire. She stormed into her room. Every candle burst into flame. She scrubbed at her eyes, appalled by the wetness her fingers encountered. She couldn't cry. She couldn't or she might drown.

"Your grandfather was a mere thought when I was watching people blow each other to pieces."

Bonnie turned as Damon materialized out of the shadows near the door. The candles burned brighter. The heat this time was dry and deadly. He saw the blackness creeping into her eyes, the same look from North Carolina, the same look from the rest stop. Bonnie whirled away from him. Her body rocked from breathing so hard.

"I don't care. Get out of my house."

Damon remained motionless. "You're a hurt little girl, Bonnie. And you blame me for every scratch when the truth is, I am not the monster you so fervently wish me to be."

Bonnie turned to him. Ire rolled off her in waves. "_Get. Out._"

If this conversation took place a week or a day or an hour ago, Damon would have left in a breath. But a moment had descended and he was frozen. Bonnie wasn't Katherine. She wasn't Elena. She was nothing more than an asset. There was no momentous revelation regarding her and yet…Bonnie hated him in a way Elena wasn't capable. Elena had her shadows and Katherine was as deep as a plane of glass, but Bonnie was a virtual mystery, a jumble of nobility and Old Testament justice. And then there was the heat. It simmered beneath their every interaction, it chafed at him but he knew it wouldn't hurt him. He knew the moment he touched her on the stairs in that house.

Damon chose the next few words carefully. "I haven't felt human in a very long time, Bonnie. A very long time." She made a noise but Damon held up a halting hand. "You can light my ass on fire after I get this out, okay?"

Bonnie compressed her mouth into a thin line. Damon took this as leave to continue. "I came home to disrupt my brother's life and release Katherine and in the process I ended up helping to save the very town I hated, coexisting with Stefan, and," Damon paused, "developing feelings for Elena."

"The same feelings that prompted you to kill her brother?" Bonnie cut in.

Damon exhaled sharply. "I haven't given you a reason to trust me. I realize this. That's why I'm disclosing this to you, my burgeoning humanity. It gets me into trouble."

"You are unbelievable."

"You're not getting it."

"Then cut it up in bite-size pieces for me. And do it quickly because—"

Damon stepped close to her. "We're not so different, Bonnie. You're not sure of who you are now that everything has changed, you don't know up from down, left from right, right from wrong and you're afraid of it. I know. I see it."

Bonnie stared straight into his eyes. She saw the truth reflected in blue. The anger dissipated, leaving her with a sick empty feeling. So Damon became human while she turned into the monster. Love and loyalty were that transformative.

Bonnie cast her eyes to the floor, tears boarding on overwhelming. She went to the bed and slid down to the floor. She didn't even know anymore. First day of school started and it all made sense and then a crow nearly ran her and Elena off the road. A crow belonging to Damon. A crow that was Damon. The harbinger of death and woe and doom. Bonnie shut her eyes and saw his hand coming out of the blue tinged darkness. God, she was being haunted by his damn _hand_.

Damon sat next to her. His arms hung off drawn up knees. Coffee, pine, and expensive cologne displaced the amber scent of the candles. She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes.

They stared at the candles along her dresser. The tops of their heads were reflected in the mirror. They sat there together, searching for what was next.

"You owe me," Damon said.

"What?"

"You owe me."

Bonnie frowned. "What do I owe you?"

Damon pointed to his jacket. "You burned one of two vintage leather jackets."

"And?"

"And," Damon rolled his eyes, "and young neophyte, as a peace offering and as a sign of goodwill, you should procure me a replacement. Get in my good graces." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Bonnie peered at him. A lazy grin spread across his face.

"I think you've got it twisted. You should get in my good graces."

"How so?"

Bonnie held up a finger. "You tampered with my mind." She held up another. "You killed Jeremy." A beat. "Did you know he had the ring?"

Damon rolled his shoulders and avoided her eyes. "Yes."

Bonnie held up a third finger. "You killed Jeremy without knowing he had the ring. Just for that I should cremate you."

Damon looked down on her. "You should."

The point. That was the point he had crossed. It circled back and nestled itself between rational behavior and responsibility. The rational thing for a witch to do would be to incinerate a vampire like him, and the responsible thing to do would be to let her. It was a bad thing, wringing the kid's neck, but he had been dropkicked then shitkicked. He was losing ground against an invisible, insidious enemy and it made him incredibly dangerous. She would see that. Out of everyone, she would see it.

Bonnie gazed for a long time. She closed her fingers into a loose fist. It made a soft thump on her thigh. He pictured a little white flag drooping slightly in her hand.

Damon reached out, for what, he didn't know. His hand found her neck. Bonnie visibly stilled. He pressed a thumb on the artery and counted. A steady, strong beat. She had a small neck, slender. Her hair brushed the back of his fingers. His thumb left her pulse and swept up to trace her jaw. She fixed her eye to his. Anyone else would be terrified or turned on or both. With Bonnie, Damon couldn't tell. All he knew was that he was touching her and she watched him with murky eyes.

"You don't hate me Bonnie," Damon confirmed. Bonnie raised her hand to draw his away, but her fingers curled around his wrist and didn't tug, only stayed.

In an alternate reality, where Damon didn't admit to shit until act two and still lived by the ignoble code of heartless vampires, he would cup her face all tender-like and snap her neck. watched him steadily.

"Fuck it," Damon whispered. He caught her mouth with his and she let him. There were no pretenses—this was nowhere near sweet. Their mouths crashed against each other, their lips parted and sucked. There was no air. Damon was fine with that.

Every point of contact was a small brushfire. He broke away from her when he sensed Bonnie struggle for breath. Her heartbeat was all over the place. It made him dizzy. He did that. Bonnie leaned forward into another kiss, this time slow and deep and Damon tasted it—the electricity of _now_.

His true face emerged. Damon snapped back. Bonnie's eyes turned on like a thousand lamps under a green shade. She reached out to touch his face but he caught her fingers.

"Don't go and ruin a good thing," he said.

The air buzzed with energy. The candles were all but puddles of wax.

"What's there to ruin?" she asked. He let her hand fall.

Damon stared at her for a moment before standing. He rolled a shoulder and the vampire receded. Bonnie wasn't sure what would happen if she moved, if she called out, if she pressed her fingers against her lips so she sat with her hands in her lap and lowered her eyes to his boots.

"There's a cut on your lip," Damon said. Bonnie started. The curtain lapped in the breeze. She saw navy blue sky and a pale moon.

Bonnie darted her tongue along her lower lip. She tasted copper. Her head fell back against the mattress. She still felt him pressing her body into the side of the bed. He had tasted like coffee and mint. His thumb had stroked her throat as he kissed her and her hand had twisted his shirt. His stomach grazed her knuckles. And his face…Bonnie groaned. She capped off the nightmare with a kiss. The shadows on the ceiling stretched to engulf the residual stains of amber light.

She slept and dreamed of black wings beating over her, shielding her from a fire that burned even her.


	11. Smoke

**A/N**: Damn, it has been a long time. I promise this won't turn into one of those discontinued fics that clog up . It will be completed. Might take me a thousand years, but it will (maybe a month or two, maybe). Thank you readers for commenting, alerting, and adding to your favorites. Thank you for reading period. This is a long chapter, so be warned. No sexy stuff though. Not yet. Enjoy.

* * *

Smoke

Akiri packed a few grams of dried leaves into a multicolored glass pipe, held a lighter over the leaves, and drew in the smoke until her eyes watered. She swallowed the coughs. It took a whole bowl to ease the pain. Afterwards she lay on the couch and listened to a Miles Davis album. It was worn and there were a few scratches, but she liked the old quality of the sound, especially the audible rasp of the needle of the gramophone. Sheila must have loved Miles Davis.

A tear tickled her scalp. Akiri wiped it away. The darkness pressed her into the cushions. There were many spells for tears. Many spells to numb the cruelty of memories. She often thought of having Bonnie cast one, inadvertently of course, but it was the coward's way. She did not wish to be numb. It was best to feel every spike of terror, every spasm of hopelessness to impress upon her mind the necessity of being in Mystic Falls.

The record skipped. Akiri sat up. All the candles in the living room flared. She lifted the needle from the disc and lowered the cover carefully. Several grimoires lay in plain sight on a record stand. She sent them to their hiding places.

The vampire approached under the cover of swiftly falling darkness. Akiri felt it before the soft click of the gate latch sounded. She went to the freezer and pulled out a chilled bottle of B+.

No knock landed on the door. Akiri flicked on the back porch light and stepped out. The stone path to the veranda was lit. Halfway there a shadow joined her.

"You never invited me to the housewarming."

Akiri set the bottle and a glass on a glass table. Pale yellow light winked on. The vampire reclined on a seat. Akiri took the opposite chair. They were both dressed in black, except she wore a loose shift and the other wore skin tight leather pants, a fitted tank, and studded high-heeled boots.

"I am amazed at your wardrobe every time I see you. Black was never your color."

A smooth white shoulder lifted. Blood red lips formed a smile. "Black seems to be yours these days. I wonder why?"

Akiri narrowed her eyes. "What do you want, Katherine?"

Katherine poured the blood in the glass and sipped. "Oooh, I do so love your wine. Wherever do you get it?"

Katherine and her playful moods grated on her nerves. She always wanted to pretend at pleasantries. A black tentacle of pain cut her patience short. "A young man who bears a striking resemblance to Stefan. May I ask the reason for this visit?"

Katherine sat back with a pout. "Oh, play nice. I just came by to update you. I'm sure Bonnie has informed you of the latest events."

"She has. Bold move with the girl. You knew she had blood in her system?"

"Yes, Damon played white knight. They are positively out of their minds with fear. If only I can drink that."

Akiri rubbed a temple. "And the wolves?"

"A fucking nuisance. The moonstone has disappeared from the Lockwood mansion. The Agatha Christie Club plots and thinks. It's so amusing."

"I am sure your amusement is the reason for the low body count."

Katherine rolled her eyes. "Spare me the lecture on expediency. I have just returned from an extended absence."

"Katherine, this is not the time to indulge in whatever sadistic games you have in store for the Salvatore Brothers. They are not needed." Akiri dug a hand into the pockets of her dress to retrieve the pipe. She packed it and an invisible flame burnt the leaves to ash.

She blew the smoke towards Katherine with a level glare. "You waste my time with these boys."

"And you seem to think I care about your time. You are a handful of ash, Akiri." The beautiful face darkened. "I will do as I like, for as long as I like. I lack a deadline."

Katherine drained the rest of the glass and stood. She shook out her brown curls and lowered her glance over Akiri. "You would do well to remember that next time."

Akiri sat out on the veranda long after Katherine left. _I lack a deadline._ How deluded these vampires were. They weren't truly immortal. A stake, a shaft of sunlight, a ripe fire and she would be the handful of ash. Perhaps when this business was done she would remind Katherine of mortality.

* * *

Caroline twisted the ring around and around. Damon tossed her a blood bag.

"Now don't chew on the other kids and remember to keep the ring on. I don't want it getting lost."

"If I lose it I'll be an urn filler."

"And I'll have to sift through all your filthy bits to find it, so be a good, smart girl today."

Caroline glared at him. Damon smiled tightly. "Stefan! Your charge is ready!"

Stefan and Elena entered the foyer. Damon watched as his brother gave Elena a quick kiss on the lips. He turned to Caroline.

"Are you good?"

Caroline wiggled the ring at him. "Sunscreen, check."

Stefan opened the door for her and she skipped out. "Thanks Damon. See you tonight Elena," he said before leaving.

They were motionless and alone for ten perfect seconds. The house shrunk by a few hundred square feet. Elena filled his senses. Then she moved and the house expanded and the musty scent of old books, the aroma of fresh cut flowers, and the smell of the blood stained glass from breakfast crowded his nose and mouth.

Damon knew she preferred to be left alone so he wandered the house for a solid hour, hoping to come across an interesting book or an inspired idea to antagonize Stefan but Elena was in the library, Elena was in the house and his mind returned to her again and again.

He hopped across a large swath of sunlight into the library, agitated. If he had his ring, he would be out drinking or partying or, one of his least favorite activities, gleaning information from occult bookshops about supernatural beings. As of yet he knew a shitload of lore on everything from ghouls to succubae, none of which were of any practical use. If he had his ring. Damon sighed and knocked aside a chess piece. Two weeks of pass the ring with Stefan.

"This needs to stop. Now," Damon complained. Elena looked up from a history book.

"You should definitely do something about it then. She's probably at the lake with Caroline, getting some sun. Go join them."

"Ha ha," Damon said. He flopped next to her on the couch. "You're melting me, Elena. I would have never put up with this bullshit."

Elena went back to reading. "She needs time, Damon. Friends understand that."

"We're unwilling allies. What do they understand?"

Elena ignored him. Damon read over her shoulder. He lightly tucked a strand of hair behind Elena's ear. She untucked the strand and shot him a look.

"Damon, you're testing the limits of my forgiveness. Go do something," she cut him off, "by do something I mean not harass me."

Orders never sat well with him so he filched a book from Stefan's contemporary reading cache and caught up on the century's latest literary offering with Elena's elbow in his side.

Soon the words lost meaning as the present predicament pressed upon him. Damon hated being shackled. Skulking in the shadows, hunting at night, wearing shades indoors were activities he was not used to. His hand looked too normal without the clunky thing. And he had no leg up over a sizeable percentage of the vampire population four out of seven days. If Katherine were to pop up, it was her game in his house, his town. Stefan might be taking a sip now and then from his ladylove but the boy was at half his former strength. Nowhere near enough. The witch screwed up the entire defensive strategy with her strike.

They had a rag tag team going in. Now with the added presence of werewolves, his existence looked fucking dim. Without Bonnie it was…not unbearable, no. Inconvenient. Disadvantageous. Detrimental. Yes. The absence of Bonnie Bennett had become a detriment to his lifestyle and the subsequent hope of an extensive, blood enriched future.

Damon forgot the book and left the couch. He drifted to the shadow of the bay windows overlooking the lawn. All that smooth, sun-dappled green. Big green eyes reflected in the glass. He raised a palm to the sunlight. His skin tingled, then burned. It was a wonder he didn't combust when he slid his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, up her sides, along her neck.

He jerked his hand back. Blisters disappeared in an instant. It was his hand again. Damon slipped it in a pocket and gazed out. He had been generous, giving her time and space. It was past time he shook things loose again.

* * *

When she wasn't at home or school, Bonnie was with Akiri. The lessons had progressed to the point where she could create an intermediate memory loss spell, make a healing poultice, transform yarn to silk, levitate large furniture and conjure up lightning storms in the course of an hour without fainting. Fifty-eight minutes, to be exact.

"Very well done, Bonnie," Akiri praised. Bonnie smiled and drank a replenishing tea Akiri made after every lesson.

"I think I could have squeezed in a glamour."

Akiri grinned. It was the first since Bonnie began her education. She watched Akiri set down a red leather book and twist a silver ring on her finger. At once the candles in the house ignited. She tapped the rim of Bonnie's teacup. Clear, amber liquid quickly filled to the very top.

Bonnie suppressed an eye roll. "Whatever," she said to the teacup.

Akiri sat back, closed her eyes, and unbraided her hair. It shone like a sheet of pennies in the candlelight. Bonnie watched the other woman comb the waves with her fingers. They slid through the strands like a cutter through water.

"What happens when you've taught me everything you can?"

"What do you think will happen?"

Bonnie stirred honey into her tea. Akiri never sweetened the tea, no matter how many times she asked.

"I think you'll disappear. Like Mary Poppins."

Akiri gave her a quizzical look. "Mary Poppins? The woman with the bottomless bag?" The look turned to reproach. "What nonsense."

Bonnie brought the tea to her lips to keep from laughing. This felt akin to Sunday tea with Grams. Grams was a bit saucier, more talkative, but the atmosphere had the same playfulness.

She caught Akiri examining her as she would a sprig of thyme or a root of ginger.

"There is something beneath your clouds of thought," Akiri said.

Bonnie ran a quick tongue over the fading cut on her lip. "School is exhausting."

Akiri narrowed an eye. "Avoiding your friends must be very exhausting."

"Not really avoiding. Ignoring is more like it."

"I am assuming you haven't told Elena about the werewolves."

Bonnie shifted in the chair. She hadn't spoken to Elena in days. At least not about anything supernatural. That streak would be two weeks and counting. Not like Elena hadn't persisted in bringing the streak to an end. Bonnie had turned down an invitation to go swimming at the lake that afternoon—it reeked of a Caroline-needs-a-ring set up. And Caroline was a subject she most definitely avoided. Anything regarding vampires she wanted to excise from her life.

"I haven't had the opportunity, no," Bonnie said.

"The information might be useful to the company she keeps, Bonnie. And perhaps they too have information to share."

"I'm sure they know as much as I do. I put Damon on the trail awhile ago and by now he probably figured it out."

Akiri tilted her head. This was a surprising development. No twisting, no entrapments necessary. Voluntary information on the Salvatore brothers. There was more here, beneath the quick mention of his name. _Damon_, she thought. Bonnie ran a quick tongue over a cut on her lip.

"Your confidence in this Damon is surprising. Didn't you come to lesson one time cursing his stupidity?"

"I did," Bonnie sighed, "and he is a dumbass, really arrogant, totally self-absorbed, but under different circumstances, those qualities keep him alive. I'm sure the prospect of another force in Mystic Falls sent him scouring the shelves for knowledge."

Akiri smiled. "You know your enemy well."

Bonnie brushed away the feel of his hand on her neck. "I know him well enough."

Akiri sensed Bonnie's discomfort. The cut on her lip, so resistant to the poultices Akiri had made, made sense. It had been such a long time ago, the beginning. There was no personal ill will between them, only history. Tradition. But history defined the past and tradition could change. They were powerful enough to create a future, create new traditions. Wasn't that what he told her?

The memory of them, in a forest felled centuries ago, assailed her. She abruptly left the table and went outside. The wind shook the branches of the old oaks at the edge of the property. Her shawl billowed out in front of her. The sky darkened. Fire called to her but she clamped down on the impulse. No light, only darkness. She needed the darkness.

Akiri stood between two oaks and peeled back the darkness, searching. The thick thread between them, the thread that sustained them, was weak and brittle. She could not see him or hear him, but she felt him. He was cold. Ice made the blood in his veins sluggish. His skin was paper, cracked and sore. Cold.

_Akiri_. So faint. Relief flooded her, then anger. _Joshua._

"Akiri!"

She was about to turn when Bonnie grasped her shoulder and pulled. A flash of white so bright it burned the air. She could taste the potency of generations, centuries. A rush of voices invaded her mind, indistinct save for one. _No one is more powerful than nature. Remember._

The wind died and the clouds departed. Akiri spat the bile from her mouth as she sat up. A bolt of lightning struck an oak and split it. Two smoking, black halves lay toppled at her feet. She looked over to see Bonnie struggling to stand. Her eyes were big and face ashen. The gaze that landed on Akiri was heavy with fear.

"What was that?'

Akiri stood. Bonnie shook as she drew closer. No fledgling witch could withstand that much power at one time, without warning. She peered at Bonnie.

"Not what, Bonnie. Who," Akiri said.

* * *

Her muscles relaxed under the hot spray. She didn't care about getting her hair wet. The water drummed her skull. She pressed her forehead against the slick tile and exhaled. This was real. The water, the soap, the aching muscles. She had normal in her tote, homework, a math book, flashcards for history. She was a seventeen year-old girl. She was, she was, she _was._

"Was," Bonnie said into the spray.

Steam turned her bathroom a dense white. She wiped the mirror and touched her hair. She should have put on a cap. Bonnie bent to retrieve a basket of hair products and looked again in the mirror.

Damon dissolved out of the steam with an appreciative smirk. "Hello."

Her first reaction sent him hurling into the shower. He crashed against the curtain, ripping the rod from the plaster and knocking loose a few tiles.

Before she could do anything more Damon had her against the wall, one hand at her throat.

"You let your shoulder drop. Bad defensive posture."

Bonnie fixed him with a glare. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes."

The steam grew denser. She smelled his aftershave, saw moisture beads glistening in his hair. Two weeks vanished as his hand slipped to trace her collarbone. She hated him. She—_you don't hate me, Bonnie._ His eyes were as sharp as they were light, two shards of glass. He wanted her. And she wanted…

Bonnie angled her mouth to press on the vein bulging from his neck. The blood throbbed beneath her lips. Time slowed to a breath. She expected a remark but he only eased back, inhaled, and then his lips were over hers, and then he was everywhere, covering every inch of her.

"Damon," she heard herself say. He looked at her and he was a vampire, the blue of his eyes swimming in reddish black.

Bonnie reared back and off the bed. A cascade of books followed. "Ouch," she croaked.

Details of the dream came back as she climbed back into bed. It was so vivid. The shower, the routine, Damon. Except she never dreamt of Damon kissing her.

Bonnie shot up.

* * *

"There's this thing called a moonstone. It's supposed to be important to the werewolves. It figures into their curse."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Curse? There's a curse now?"

Jeremy ignored him. "The werewolves used to be able to change at will. The details are all over the place, but the one sure thing is that this moonstone is important."

Stefan rubbed his jaw. "So we know the Lockwoods had it. We know it's important. What we don't know is why Katherine wants it."

"We need to clear up one seriously cloudy issue before we tackle the other cloudy issues," Damon said.

"And that is?" Elena asked.

"Why do we care about why? Katherine wants this rock. Okay. We get it, use it as leverage to get her where we want her and then kill her. Simple."

He had everyone sold until he said simple. Alaric frowned. "Simple never ends up being simple when you're involved."

"People end up dead who shouldn't end up dead," Caroline stated.

"I usually find myself running for my life," Elena added.

Damon pointed his finger at her. "And I usually swoop in and save you, let's not forget that."

"Damon's right. Why doesn't matter right now. We need to find the moonstone," Stefan said.

Caroline stood up. "There's a fundraiser in the park today. The Lockwoods will be there. Some of us can go, try to find out more while the rest can search the mansion."

Damon nodded. "Look at you, plotting. I'm impressed."

"Screw you too, Damon," Caroline responded.

Elena shrugged on her jacket. "Jeremy, Stefan, and I will go to the park."

"We don't get to pick special teams this time?" Damon asked. Elena merely pursed her lips and nodded to Stefan and Jeremy.

"Let's go."

Caroline turned in a huff to Damon and Alaric after Elena and the rest left.

"So I'm stuck here yet again while everyone gets to go out and mingle and break into a mansion and find a magical moonstone. This no sunlight thing sucks."

"Stop bitching. You have a free pass to do nothing while Laverne and I have to bust into a den of mangy animals to find a mood ring," Damon said.

Caroline screwed up her face. "Laverne?"

Alaric swooped a hand over his head and whistled. Damon shook his head.

"What are these young people watching?"

"Something called The O.C. Or what is it? Guido Shore?"

Caroline had her arms crossed in defense mode. Alaric started laughing and Damon went to the cabinet for a drink. He turned to hand Alaric a glass when he heard quick, determined steps heading towards the study. Female, human. Light, short paces. Blood orange and vetiver scent.

"Bonnie," Damon said. She paused in the entrance to the study. Her eyes went to Alaric then to Caroline and settled on Damon.

"We need to talk."

"Why, hello, Bonnie. You don't call, you don't write."

Alaric shrugged on his jacket. "Uh, I'll be at my place, gathering supplies. Meet me at three." He nodded to Bonnie and exited the room.

Caroline opened her mouth to speak then closed it. Bonnie dropped her head a little as she passed. A streak of sunlight fell across the doorway. Caroline pulled up short and would have knocked Bonnie over if not for a hand shooting out. A cloud passed over the sun. Bonnie looked at Caroline and let her go.

The door shut softly and they were alone.

"You want something from me, Damon?"

Damon poured himself a drink. "Well, come to think of it, it would really make my day if we repeated the events from the last time we saw each other."

Flames leapt from the fireplace. "Stay out of my head."

Damon smiled. "But you make it so easy to worm my way in."

Bonnie shook her head. "I thought it would mean something to come in here and threaten you, but you're so obvious." She flopped onto the couch and flicked a finger. A book landed in her lap. She flipped through the yellowed pages, eyebrow raised. "Werewolves, huh?"

"Maybe."

The book closed and flew back to its place. Bonnie folded her arms. "So, how may I be of assistance?"

Damon finished his drink. Her coolness perturbed him. Knowledge gleamed in her eyes, wavered there like flame in a window. He wondered how much she knew, if she knew about the werewolf bite, the curse, the moonstone. He wondered for how long. It had been two, nearly three weeks since their last tête-à-tête. Damon read her. Bonnie had come here different. More confident. Her power hung in the air, faint, but noticeable. He had counted on a blow up, a veritable bomb, but Bonnie sat there in her leggings and oversized shirt, hair swept back, light make up, and absolutely no qualms about being in his presence.

Bonnie frowned slightly. "Damon."

"Elena would appreciate it if you pulled your head out your ass and did your sworn duty."

"Elena, huh?" her lips switched. "I think Elena can handle herself."

Damon wagged a finger. "Don't be so sure. Humans are fragile."

"Stefan?"

"Stefan has his mantle and his lance all polished, he just doesn't know how to use the damn things."

"You?"

"Me?" Damon leaned against the desk and picked up a letter opener. "I'm a homicidal maniac. Last I heard they couldn't be trusted."

Bonnie shrugged. "Not trusted, no, but they are good for some things."

It was the closest statement to outright acknowledgment of his usefulness. Damon stuck the letter opener in the desk. "You're not here to bitch me out."

A grin cracked her cool. "Warmer."

"So," Damon smirked, "how may _I_ be of assistance?"

* * *

Alaric glanced at his watch. 3:15. He tapped the steering wheel. Damon would call if the plan had changed, or if he was running late. At least Alaric hoped so. His day would be better spent lounging with Jenna or fine-tuning some weapons instead of waiting on the narcissist.

A hard rap on the driver window jerked him forward. Damon raised a crowbar and wiggled his eyebrows. Alaric swore under his breath.

"Jesus, really?" he asked as he stepped out the truck.

"Too conspicuous?"

"A bit, yeah."

Damon tossed the crowbar into a yard. "I agree. Bulky. We need something with a bit more finesse." Alaric was about to speak when Damon's phone rang. "Hold on, it's the minx."

"Hey, I was just thinking of you." Damon chuckled. "Where and when and for how long?"

Alaric audibly sighed. Damon nodded to him and cleared his throat. "Kitten, I'm being rushed off the phone. Keep warm for me. I might even bring you a treat." He grinned and hung up.

"You're confirming play dates before we commit burglary?"

"Rick, it's impolite to ignore a request from a willing lady. And it's purveying, not burglary." Damon trotted across the street to the Lockwood residence. Alaric gripped his briefcase and followed. They walked up the stone steps to the front porch and Damon rang the doorbell.

"Have you completely—"

The door opened and Bonnie came out, agitated. "It's not in the house."

Damon scratched a cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Damon, I'm sure."

Alaric frowned. "Uh, hello Bonnie."

"I probably should have called to update you," Damon said. Bonnie shook her head.

"I searched the house for the moonstone using a spell. It was here, but someone moved it," Bonnie said to Alaric. She turned to Damon. "I'm going to the park."

"We'll be right behind, Kitten."

Bonnie sent him a glare before stepping lightly down the steps. Alaric watched her drive away before turning on Damon.

"When did this happen?"

Damon went to open the door. It was locked and there was some additional resistance, some intangible force that pricked his skin. _Not trust, no._

"About two hours ago. She missed me. We reconciled. It was beautiful."

Alaric grabbed his arm. "She's a kid."

"So was Teen Witch. Bet that didn't stop those wet and sticky nights, huh?"

"Cut the bullshit, Damon. Whatever game you're playing, quit while the stakes are low."

Alaric removed his hand when Damon smiled. It was more of a grin, the kind of grin that bordered on macabre. Damon squinted into the sun and slipped on a pair of wayfarers.

"You're a good guy, Rick. Keep on moralizing. But don't talk to me about risks and feelings getting hurt. We both know all that does is make me want to prove you right."

Damon tipped his head and continued down the street to his car. Alaric rubbed a hand over his face. A headache was forming right over his left eye. Perhaps he spoke to the wrong person. Perhaps…Alaric climbed into his truck and searched the glove box for Advil. He shook two pills into his palm and drank them down with cold black coffee. Perhaps his concern was for the wrong person.


	12. Twine

**A/N:** I tried to break up this chapter, but it refused to comply. And honestly, I want to finish this behemoth. I had a lot of ideas going into this thing, and they are taking shape now. Bamon emerges here in a way that I like. Dear reader, stick with me. The ending is all but written. Enjoy the meantime.

* * *

Twine

Bonnie kept to the edge of the park. She hated this part. Creeping. Skulking. Hiding. Since when did she turn into the monster that lived under the bed and in the closet? If she knew monsters existed when the sun shone and the sky was a pale blue and the temperature was a balmy 76 degrees, she wouldn't have been so shocked to find them everywhere.

Elena and Stefan whispered over a potted plant. Even when they were preoccupied with curses and werewolves they were preoccupied with each other. A burning irritated the back of her throat. Bonnie spotted Jeremy hauling mulch. His shirt rode up a little and revealed smooth, hard muscle. Definitely eye candy.

Her eyes followed Jeremy to a section of newly planted garden. Jeremy bent to drop the bag of mulch and Bonnie started. Mason Lockwood leaned on a hoe, sleeves rolled up, directing Jeremy.

"Isn't he dreamy?"

Damon approached from her side. Bonnie folded her arms.

"Mason Lockwood is over there. Why are you over here?"

"I'm surveying the field, fine-tuning my strategy." Damon looked at her. "After I'm done doing the dirty work, we need to play catch-up."

Bonnie nodded. "Over tea and crumpets?"

Damon smiled, his teeth white and the curl of lips pointed. "Coffee and cucumber sandwiches, darling. That stuff is for the English."

The sudden Southern drawl in her ear sent her stomach plunging. Bonnie turned to glance at him but his figure already tripped across the lawn. Do not smile, she willed. Do not smile. Her brain settled on the barest of grins. A few minutes later, he gave the sign and she followed Mason to the back lot. It took less of an effort to subdue him, but the agony and the scream frightened her. She checked his pulse when he collapsed.

Damon jumped down from Mason's Bronco. "You didn't kill him, did you?"

"Not yet," she whispered. Damon nodded towards the passenger seat.

"Let's get out of here before the beast awakens."

Quiet dominated the ride back to the Manor. Dust and pebbles swirled around the truck as Damon parked near the front entrance.

"Wait here," he said. He disappeared into the house. Bonnie rubbed her palms on her thighs. It happened so quickly. A quick smile, an offer of help, and Mason was unconscious in the backseat of his Bronco. She kidnapped someone. A fresh wave of anxiety forced her to breathe slowly. It had to be done. She needed the moonstone.

Bonnie looked at the prostate figure in the backseat. She could get what she needed without anyone getting hurt. The keys were in the ignition. She could send him away, back to Florida. Bonnie lifted her hand to rest on his forehead.

The backdoor opened and Damon pulled and lifted Mason over his shoulder. "Come on. Bring the keys and that bag," he told her. Bonnie snatched them and followed him into the house, down the hall and to the study. Damon already had Mason in a chair. Bonnie noticed the row of pokers nearby, a bottle of discolored water, and the painter's sheet on the floor.

Damon saw the unease before she could mask it.

"Help me with this," he said. They bent down and unfurled the sheet over the carpet. Bonnie caught the look in his eye as they straightened.

"What's with the splatter guard?"

Damon rubbed his hands together. "To guard against splatter." He gestured for her to continue. "I'd like to get this done and out the way in time for dinner."

Bonnie stood before the chair and touched Mason's temples. She sank into his brain, traveled the neural pathways, narrowing down the search terms. She saw glimpses of Florida, and…she frowned. Katherine. Fear and confusion, the moonstone, Tyler, the moonstone again, woods, the moonstone…it shone at a depth, surrounded by stone.

"A sewer?" Damon questioned. She heard chains rattle.

"Not a sewer," Bonnie whispered. "It's in a…well." Bonnie stepped back, eyes open and resting on Damon's face.

Mason reared up. Damon pushed Bonnie aside and gave Mason a blow across the face. He turned, jaw tense. Agitation rolled off him, that and something else. Bonnie edged towards the door.

"I'll let you know if I find it," she said.

"Bonnie," Damon called.

Bonnie paused.

"Coffee and cucumbers."

Her features lightened for a second and then she was gone. Damon dropped his gaze to Mason. He gripped a poker and held it to the flames.

* * *

Bonnie rounded a corner and bumped into Caroline. The other girl touched her arm to steady her. Cold swept through her mind and down her back. Bonnie took a quick step back.

"Hey."

Caroline toyed with her fingers. "Hey."

Bonnie fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. It was never this awkward between them. Of course it was never this awkward. They were human then. They had no reason to worry about tomorrow. The small matter of death and vampirism made tomorrow yesterday.

"How are you?" asked Bonnie.

"Okay. Well, as okay as I can be, I guess. Considering."

Bonnie nodded. "Yeah, considering." The conversation veered closer to the cliff. She chewed the inside of her cheek. This was Caroline, her best friend, confidant, and general harasser. They used to practically shadow each other. She missed her friend.

The witch brain battered the sentiment. Witches could never befriend a vampire. They could never trust a thing averse to nature, no matter their past. There were too many rules to contend with, too many actions and emotions to reconcile. She cleared her mind as she exhaled. The location of the moonstone mattered now, screw abstractions. Caroline was a vampire. She could use her help if she could get it.

"Remember when we used to play around that old well?"

Caroline nodded. "Yeah, on the old Lockwood property."

Bonnie took out her phone and sent a text. "I think Mason hid the moonstone there. I'm heading out." She slid the phone in her pocket and looked to Caroline. "Wanna come with?"

Caroline smiled tightly and waved her hand. "Kinda lacking sunscreen. I would ask Damon but he sounds…busy."

Bonnie pointed to the necklace Caroline wore. "I can make you one." Caroline hesitated, but gave it over. Bonnie stood before the windows. The sun shone bright and brilliant. She closed her eyes and weaved a modified sun spell over the jewelry.

"Done," Bonnie said. Caroline took the necklace and put it on, frowning.

"That's it? No wind or flickering lights?"

Bonnie smiled. "No need." She took Caroline's arm and brought her into the sun. They stood together for a second, feeling the warmth on their faces and necks and arms.

"The sun spell is temporary until I find a proper ring."

Caroline touched the cluster of butterflies at her throat. "So I'm not stuck with this forever? Because this was the first thing I grabbed this morning and I'm not that committed to, you know, wearing this with _every_ outfit."

It felt good to roll her eyes. Caroline nudged her. "I'm still the same person, Bonnie."

Bonnie nudged her back. "I know. It's just..." She wasn't the same person. She died. Dead things don't come back the same. But Caroline tried and Bonnie had to try as well. "We're long overdue for a purge. After this moonstone thing you have to bring me back into the loop."

Caroline smiled. "Let me get my coat and we're out." She sped off. Bonnie checked her phone and read the text from Elena. They were on the way to the well. Was Damon coming?

A muffled yell traveled down the hall. No, Bonnie responded, Caroline's coming with.

Caroline insisted on taking her car, so Bonnie rode shotgun to the edge of the old Lockwood property. She trailed behind Caroline as they traveled between the trees. A hoarse yell echoed in the air. Caroline disappeared and the woods suddenly expanded, the sun grew colder. Bonnie quickened her pace. She felt a surge of energy from up ahead. The moonstone was close. The yell rang in her ears. Caroline appeared before her. The yell drowned out her words. She pointed. Stefan and Elena circled the well. Bonnie and Caroline joined them. All four of them peered down into a shimmering darkness. Bonnie saw it gleaming and white beneath the murky water.

A pungent scent struck her. Vervain. She turned to tell Stefan but her side was vacant. The scene unfolded without sound. Elena and Caroline panicked. Elena disappeared into the darkness, Caroline pulled Stefan out of the well, Stefan covered in burns. Bonnie knelt beside him. Another yell, louder, more insistent. She had to make a choice. There was a price, Akiri said. A price to have the moonstone. Bonnie placed her hands on his forehead. Water dripped on her hands. Elena knelt next to her, dripping. She held the moonstone. Bonnie whispered an incantation over Stefan. He stirred beneath her hands. Elena dropped the moonstone to the ground and embraced Stefan. Bonnie stood and carefully retrieved the stone.

It sunk into her palm. Bonnie heard the cry again. A message must be sent. It didn't have to happen, but Mason had to be it.

The moment Damon pierced Mason's heart the moonstone became hers.

* * *

They were all upset. Damon remained stolid through the entire interrogation/verbal attack. Justification would only exacerbate their anger, and Damon cornered without a drink increased his hostility tenfold. He faced the fire. The heat was mild and superficial, but it would do.

They stopped talking at him and he stopped listening. In retrospect, he should have sent the dog running back to Florida, but he knew it would only delay the problem. And when the guy looked up at him in those last seconds, he saw himself reflected. It reviled him.

A log snapped. The fire grew as it ate the wood and the air. He struggled with the switch, the damn switch to turn it off. He didn't need to be human, to feel so…consumed by an emotion he couldn't control. The more he struggled, the more convinced he became of something being wrong.

He slammed a fist into the mantelpiece and turned to get a drink. The room was empty except for Bonnie. She stood at the edge of the carpet.

"What do you want?" Damon asked.

"I could have stopped you from killing him," she said. Damon frowned.

"Is this an attempt at commiserating? 'Cause I'm not interested." He walked over to a service tray and fixed a glass of straight whiskey. He felt her eyes on his neck. Her eyes and her silence were an understanding, and it nettled him.

"You know, I'm not interested in whatever you've got bubbling. Stop showing up unannounced. Stop extending olive branches. We don't do that."

"You did what you had to, just as I did."

"What did you have to do? Kill a guy because he had the misfortune of being pathetic and in love with a fucking bitch?"

"I let you kill him. I could have stopped you."

The conviction in her voice made him stop and look at her. She pulled her hair back and he saw the freshness and angularity of her face, the strength in her chin and the tension in her mouth. Her eyes blazed green. Damon forgot the glass and examined her. She didn't look away but inhaled deeply and lowered her head. Steady, he read in her movements. Steady now.

"You could have stopped me."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I needed to send a message. And I needed the moonstone. The only way to do it was to kill someone close to Katherine. Mason," Bonnie blinked, "it had to be Mason."

Damon stilled. He heard of witches compelling vampires. Very powerful, very old, and virtually insane witches.

"Did you—"

"No," she said.

"Then what the hell are we talking about?"

Bonnie shook her head. "I…" Frustration wrinkled her forehead. "Shit. Forget I said anything."

Damon stood dumbstruck as she left. He noticed the warmth ceased to be superficial. It was in his bones. Some inarticulate fear sent him striding after her.

He flitted from behind to block her passage to her car. They stood in the darkness, the moonlight just beyond them. She didn't move and he didn't speak. Her eyes were too dark too read.

"Why?"

Bonnie searched the gravel. "Do you remember what you told me? The night we, uh, um—"

"—almost went horizontal?" Damon supplied. Bonnie scowled at him.

"You told me we weren't that different."

"I remember. We never talked about that horizontal bit though. In fact, we never talk about anything besides business as usual. Which you assured me you'd remedy."

Bonnie played with her keys. "I just wanted to say thanks. Thank you for helping me."

Damon narrowed his eyes. She backpedaled so deftly it impressed him. "You owe me."

"Sure, the leather jacket. I'll get right on that." Bonnie stepped around him but he was there.

"You owe me answers. Now. And with as little bullshit as possible, please."

She glared at him. "It has nothing to do with Elena, therefore it's none of your business."

"You matter to Elena, therefore it is my business."

"Elena is safe and I'll be fine so accept the thanks and leave it at that."

His response was an irritated grumble. Bonnie stepped back victorious and safe. She practically skipped around him to the driver side. He keenly wanted to tear a rent in whatever cunning plan she had going on. And he loathed the bud of fear at the prospect of her leaving. It verged on trepidation, and if he acted, it would mean he acted outside the 'For Elena' realm. The driver door opened. Fuck it.

"You're important."

Bonnie jerked to a stop.

"To clarify I mean without the Elena clause. We have a thing, Bonnie. Enmity, love/hate, whatever you want to call it, but in the end, we made a deal. Share and share alike."

Damon couldn't gauge her silence. The night hid her too well. Their regular phenomenon of proximity offered zero clues as well. He felt as though he just drank from a grass-fed human, but he felt that way whenever Bonnie was near.

"I want you to meet someone," Bonnie said. The passenger door unlocked. She slipped behind the wheel. Damon smiled and accepted the invitation.

* * *

Bonnie used the radio as buffer against conversation. Anticipation clawed at what remained of her stomach. She snuck a glance at Damon. He had his head back, attention elsewhere. Good. Bonnie exhaled. His eyes snapped to hers and Bonnie concentrated on the road.

How she circled back from going to Akiri with the moonstone to going to Akiri with the moonstone with Damon remained a mystery. She had fifteen minutes to unravel it before Akiri turned her ancient eyes on her.

She got the moonstone, returned to the mansion for her car, drove off and got lost. And in getting lost she started thinking. And thinking inevitably led back to the thing between them, that thing Damon mentioned. She began to daydream on the thing. Was it friendship? She pictured them as friends on a particular day. They shot each other short, funny texts, flirted a little, handled a supernatural threat, and concluded the day with bowling. Damon bowling.

"Ha."

She saw Damon move his head and tapped a beat to the current song playing.

Maybe. Maybe the thing was a phase and they'll be back to hating each other in a week or so. She tried to recall the hatred she had towards him but when it was once so clear and well defined, it was now nebulous at best. They had smiled at each other, genuine smiles. They had…kissed. After everything, they kissed. Her cheeks flushed. Once in reality, once in her (his) dream. The dream. The thing existed there, in the steam and the heat and the fluid tension. The thing directed her mouth to his neck and made her stomach and spine and heart evaporate when he dipped his head and kissed her, slow and deep. When they eased apart and she saw his blood-red eyes, she didn't draw back. She drew closer, wanting to erase the barriers…

Bonnie blasted the air conditioning. No more daydreaming. Akiri would know and she had to be cautious. Why was Damon with her? She had to focus on that. Why did she go back?

They arrived at the house without Bonnie noticing. She turned off the engine and it crashed in on her, a wave of massive proportions, pounding her with potential consequences.

"This was Sheila's house," Damon said.

Bonnie only nodded. Damon shot her a leery look. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she got out the car, "let's go."

They walked up the lane to the front porch. Bonnie smelled something savory coming from the house. Akiri never cooked.

"Chicken. Coq Au Vin, maybe." Damon said as they climbed the porch steps.

The light clicked on. Damon grinned. "Is this what it feels like to meet the parents for the first time?"

"I wouldn't know," Bonnie replied. She knocked on the door and only looked at Damon when ignoring his stare became impossible.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Then quit looking at me. It's annoying."

"I can't help where my eyes wander. Would it help if I said it's all PG-13?" Damon tapped a temple

Bonnie started to retort when the door opened and Akiri stepped out. She directed a brilliant smile Bonnie never saw to Damon and held out her hand.

"Akiri Beraht. And you are Damon Salvatore."

Damon returned the dazzling smile with one of his own. "A pleasure, I am sure."

"It is, to be sure."

Akiri beckoned them inside. "Come in, come in."

Damon strode in without preamble. Bonnie entered more wary. She sent a questioning gaze to Akiri, who only took her arm and led her to the living room.

"I've never been so readily invited in before," Damon said. He ran his eyes over the volumes on a crowded desk.

"I read your intentions."

"That and a couple thousand spells most likely contributed to your hospitality." Damon picked up a novel and read the spine.

Akiri grinned. "Only one."

Damon swung around to shoot a look at Bonnie. _Really? _She rubbed her neck and drifted towards the kitchen. The table was set for three. The burnt orange linen was out, along with the crystal wine glasses and the polished silver.

Bonnie prayed for it to be a dream when they sat down to table. She prayed as the steam from the Coq Au Vin wafted her face. She prayed as Akiri sent around the basket of bread. She looked to Damon, who looked at her. Bonnie stopped praying and they broke bread, eyes on each other.

"An old custom of hospitality," Damon said. He focused on Akiri. "Am I correct?"

Akiri inclined her head. "Yes. Not as old as yourself, but you must have been well acquainted with hospitality rules when you were human."

"Very well. I was a well-behaved, decorous young man. And now I'm either homicidal or manic, depending on the day."

Akiri smiled. "Coq Au Vin?"

Damon raised his plate. "Please. I could eat a cow."

"You mean a sorority girl," Bonnie said.

"Dinner before dessert, Kitten."

Bonnie refrained from rolling her eyes too hard. The nicknames. Bonbon, Kitten, Hilda, Baba. They didn't have a playful relationship. They didn't have any kind of relationship. She gripped her fork as Akiri made him a plate of food. What the fuck was happening?

"Excuse me," Bonnie said. Damon stopped pouring the wine.

"Uh, I brought him over here to fill him in and now we're sitting here enjoying dinner?"

Akiri sat back with a sigh. "I thought it would be nice to gain an understanding in a relaxed atmosphere before we…unload onto him."

"This is insane. He doesn't eat food."

"I do. Eating this will probably save that sorority girl." Damon winked at Bonnie. She ignored him.

"I can't do as we planned without help. And he's the only help I…" the words 'need' and want' twisted up her thoughts. Akiri touched her arm.

"I understand, Bonnie. You trust him. Good. We'll explain all after we eat."

Bonnie pursed her lips, effectively silenced. There was nothing to do except eat and get full and worry about Damon's reaction later.

* * *

Damon thought the most surreal part of the day occurred when he enjoyed a repast with two witches. Lanterns floated between the trees, illuminating a clearing already brightened by a large bonfire. He stood in the semi-darkness near the trees and watched Akiri and Bonnie cast a silent spell, their arms outstretched as though to embrace the fire.

A gust of wind lifted his hair and then the world stilled. Bonnie opened her eyes first and stepped back from the fire. Damon started. Her shadow stayed fixed to one spot. He moved and saw he did so without his shadow.

Surreal as all hell.

"Neat trick," he said to Bonnie. She came towards him and he felt power in his gut. Fear bloomed in him for the first time since he was invited in. It was now obvious they were dealing with heavy magic, and heavy magic usually meant an offering of some kind.

Bonnie approached. Damon remained relaxed. If he needed to, he could kill her in half a second. Her green eyes shone. The closer she came the more she glowed until she stood before him a flame, hot and flickering. She extended a hand. Instead of snapping her neck, Damon took her hand and was enveloped in a heat so intense it was white.

Disorientation for a vampire was a rare thing. In the times it did happen, it took an enormous amount of concentration to throw off. Damon groped the air aimlessly, trying to center his bearings. His thoughts were scattered and body disconnected. _Bonnie_, he plucked the name out of the jumbled mess and focused on it. Bonnie. Bonnie. The air was warm and dry. Water dripped, echoing. Earth, pungent earth. The absence of light was so complete he thought his eyes were closed. Damon swung to the left. His hands bounced off hot rock. _Underground._ A heartbeat muffled the sound of water. Steady. He knew it was she before his name reached him.

A hand grasped his wrist. Damon locked a vice grip on her arm.

"Fucking explain what and when and how and why and where. In that order."

"Akiri decided show is better than tell. You're afraid." Damon heard the grin and squeezed harder. Bonnie only breathed hard.

"I can't see if you're being cute right now. I don't care. I can't see and we're underground in some cavern and you're too calm. So yes, I'm a little uneasy."

Her hand slid from his wrist to hold his hand. "Trust me."

Bonnie had a warm, dry palm, like the air. Her fingers gently squeezed his. Damon released the vice on her arm and closed his hand around hers.

"You need to rethink your trust exercises."

Bonnie pulled him forward and Damon fell in behind her. The intimacy of hand-to-hand contact bothered him. He let go of her hand clasped her wrist. Bonnie said nothing. The ground was rocky and uneven, but Bonnie walked as though it were a well-worn path. He followed as best as his nature allowed, but his mind didn't rest. His senses received and translated every shift of air, every smell, every brush of his foot over the ground. Disorientation hovered at the back of his thoughts.

"You can talk you know," Bonnie said. She led him to the left. Her voice was direct in his ear.

"If I talk, I'm asking questions that better get answered."

"Since when has that ever not been an option?"

Damon snorted. "Whenever that obdurate morality screws up your pretty face. It's past irritating, your morality."

"Now I know what you're like when panicked. Mouthy, jumps at rhetorical questions."

She was laughing at him.

Damon let the silence extend before asking, "Where are we?"

"Short version—we're in Akiri's memory."

"Doing what? Exploring the effect of too much witch's brew?"

"Like I said, showing is better than telling. And besides," Bonnie stopped, "you need a reality check."

The rejoinder died in his throat when light suddenly ate into the darkness. He blinked and they were at the bottom of a valley, standing in tall, waving grass. Trees grew out of either side, the leaves a dappled jade. Breeze he didn't feel shook the branches above him. The trees formed a canopy under which a crude white washed stone circle stood.

As they walked towards the circle, Damon became conscious of figures moving between the slabs. He heard moaning and the lilt of many voices. He stopped Bonnie on the edge of a winding stream of dark water. It separated the grassland from the short grass lawn of the circle. Red clay bodies shook and swayed. Two bodies lay prone before them.

"What is this?" Damon whispered.

"The reason why," Bonnie replied. She crossed the stream and stood within the stone circle. Damon looked behind him. The valley stretched out for miles. Beyond that glittered an expansive surface, possibly the sea. He had zero clue where he was. Oh, that's right, he was in a memory. Fuck. Damon crossed the stream. Bonnie glanced at him then at the scene before them.

The red clay bodies were naked women, old and young, fat and thin, beautiful and hideous. There were nine, swaying and muttering in many languages, eyes closed. Prostrate before them was another naked woman. Lashes broke the caramel skin of her back and the bottoms of her feet were raw and bleeding. A mass of thick amber hair hid the bowed head. It flagged out against the rock like a strike of color.

Damon lifted his eyes to the other figure. His jaw locked. It was a burned and blistered body, horribly mangled. A vampire.

He turned to Bonnie. A placid expression had settled over her face, but Damon saw tension in her eyes. Beads of sweat dotted the edge of her scalp and the bridge of her nose.

The humming cut out and the bodies stilled. The eyes of the red bodied opened. Every gaze seemed to pierce him. The centermost body, a woman of medium height and build, with long clay hair twisted into ropes, stepped forward. Her ageless face looked upon the broken woman.

"We have searched and found no instance of a communion between witch and vampire. It is insupportable. The path always leads to darkness, to death, to nothing."

The broken woman rose to kneel. Damon muted his surprise. _Akiri._ His gaze flicked to the vampire baking in the sunlight. His gut twisted.

"It is not impossible, Grandmother. A vampire loved a werewolf."

The Grandmother drew up. "Yes, the hybrid. And we have dealt with the consequences of such a monstrosity at great expense. Expense that cannot be paid again."

Akiri bent her head. She twisted her hands into her hair. "The moonstone," she whispered. She stared into the face of the Grandmother. "The moonstone can make it possible."

"It is hidden from us."

"But its power, the power of the Originals. It can be used to," Akiri gulped, "used to transform."

The Grandmother shifted to the nearest red clay body, a squat old woman with eyes light as water. A tacit deliberation began. Damon watched with increased apprehension. _The __moonstone changed everything._

The Grandmother abruptly turned to Akiri.

"There is a vampire under our gaze, already searching. Assist her and bring the moonstone to us."

Akiri licked her cracked lips. "And in exchange for my cooperation, Grandmother?"

The Grandmother stepped back into the half-moon of witches. "You shall be a daughter to us, and the vampire shall be a vampire no more."

Akiri sank forward, trembling. "Thank you."

"We will keep him until the moonstone is returned. Make your farewell short."

Lightning cracked against the blue sky and the red clay witches vanished. Akiri crawled over to the motionless body. She touched the burnt face.

"Joshua, stay strong for me. Carry my blood with you." She dragged a nail across a wrist. Drops of blood beaded to the surface. She held her wrist to his mouth until his lips were tainted red.

"We are inextricably linked, you and I. Remember. Across time, across realities. We are the same. I cannot be without you."

A singed hand stroked the blanket of red hair. And then the ground before her was empty. Akiri fell forward into the shaft of sunlight, beating the rock with her fists.

Damon turned to Bonnie. "Well. That was—"

Bonnie swayed next to him. He grabbed her arm. Sweat soaked her clothes. Her skin was blanched. It burned his palm through the thin fabric of her shirt. Fever made her eyes glassy and flat.

"I can't hold it. We have to go to the stream. We have to get to the stream. The stream. The cave is too far. The darkness will not cover us, but the water, the water will take it all away," Bonnie rambled. She groped for a hold on his shirt. Damon saw something glimmering at the edge of his vision. It started to eat away the memory.

He swung Bonnie off her feet and sped to the stream. The stream expanded into a green pool. He fell and extinguished like a piece of kindling into a green pool. A scream ripped apart the silence. Damon propelled forward, wading into the cold waters.

He went until the water came up to Bonnie's neck.

"Keep going," she whispered.

"You'll drown."

Bonnie stared into his eyes. The world, memory, reality shrank to the distance of their gaze. The weight of it pulled his head down. They shared her hot breath. He sank with a step. Dark water rushed over them.

Damon woke with the touch of a cold hand. He sprang to his feet. Time slipped from him. Dawn lightened the sky. He took in everything at once: the dead fire, an unconscious Bonnie at his feet, the collapsed and charred trees forming a circle around them, and Akiri. Red hair fell about her shoulder in waves. They locked eyes for a full minute before Damon had a mind to speak.

"How deep in this is she?"

Akiri glanced at Bonnie. "She had to kill the last possessor of the moonstone in order for us to reclaim it."

Damon sighed. He ran a hand over his hair. "I know what you want to do. It's like your Queen Bee suggested. There's no way."

"There is always another path."

"And who's going to pay for it? You?" Damon bent and lifted Bonnie to his chest. The customary warmth suffused his skin. He turned and began walking out of the clearing.

"And you will keep her soothed and safe, Damon?" Akiri cocked her head. "I wondered why she trusted you. I thought it a fanciful crush, one-sided. But the attraction is mutual, I see it now."

Damon paused. "Do you know why vampires like humans so much?" He looked at Akiri. "I'll give you a hint. It's not their personality."

"Their humanity."

Damon smiled. "I'm sure that's what Joshua told you. It was your humanity. Wake up, Akiri. We're everything you aren't and you are what we can never be again."

"Bonnie's involvement ends now. I even think you're pulling strings and I'll kill you." Damon let the threat hang between them before disappearing.

Akiri twisted her lips into a satisfied smile.


	13. Quell

**A/N**: Writer's block is a massive bitch. This chapter is me getting over it. I was so tempted to just leave 'Undisclosed' incomplete, but as a reader, I know how pissy I get when an author does it. So enjoy, awesome readers. It's for you that I continue.

* * *

Quell

"Before you say anything, I played a minor part in the sequence of events leading up to this," Damon said.

"Bonnie is upstairs, unconscious, and you can't give me an exact reason why," Elena said.

They stood at opposite ends of the wooden island in the Gilbert kitchen. Two half-empty mugs of tea and a leather tote sat on the counter. Elena had her hair up in a messy ponytail and the robe she wore hung open, revealing a pink camisole and turquoise sleep shorts decorated with floating sheep. Damon appreciated her cuteness despite being tired and concerned.

"If you start pouting I might make a pass at you."

Elena sighed. "I think I've been pretty patient about the whole 'secret alliance' thing. I'm ready to hear anything remotely truthful at this point."

Damon drank the rest of the tea. Stefan would choose this moment to turn off his Elena homing beacon and leave him to deal with the more infuriating aspects of her personality. The abiding concern for Bonnie reminded him of the early days with Stefan, before he spiraled off to depths even Damon found distasteful.

Elena regarded him with growing agitation. Damon shifted his weight. There was a rustle of linen and cotton upstairs. "Bonnie is awake," he said. He glanced at Elena. Her brown eyes scanned his face then fell to the side.

"I could have taken her back to the Manor. I could have but I wanted her safe."

Elena stared at him. Damon toyed with the mug.

"Is Bonnie in danger?"

"Yes," Damon frowned, "maybe, I don't know. Witchcraft is generally over my head and outside my interest. However, Bonnie is…not."

"You're interested in Bonnie."

Damon made a face, about to dispute all the connotations associated with that simple phrase, but Elena locked her gaze on him and for fuck's sake, he couldn't totally lie to her even if he really really needed to.

"Only as far as her worth to me. As a vampire."

Damon heard a step on the stair. "I have to go."

Elena reached for his arm but he sped out the house. The air cooled the warmth from his cheek. He breathed it in, felt his lungs expand, then exhaled. He needed copious amounts of scotch and a dark room. Damon scrubbed his face. It started again. He turned back to scowl at the front door.

* * *

Bonnie gripped the banister as she went downstairs. A splintering string connected her head to her body. Every step required ten seconds pause. Her rational brain diagnosed her with a concussion and urged her body to turn around and go back upstairs to lie in a blue-black haze, but she needed to see someone, to explain something. She heard the voice, heard the door shut. But what she needed hadn't completely left yet.

She hurried as best she could down the stairs and groped for the front door. Cold air buffeted her face and she took a step outside.

It was dark and her vision blurry, but she made him out all the same.

"Damon," she said. Nausea forced her eyes closed. A hand grasped her arm but it wasn't him.

"Come inside, Bonnie. No one's out here," Elena said. Bonnie stood for a minute, confused and anxious and sick, wondering what she wanted him for, why she called for him, why she went limping after him. Elena put an arm around her shoulders and gently directed her inside. The motion upset her and she lost control of the nausea. After that, Bonnie passed out.

Fire. Everywhere. It ate the sky. Black wings beat it back. A hot wind on her face. The smell of burning flesh. A scream, or has there always been a scream? A scream, protracted and terrible, rose above the sound of the beating wings and the flames. It was human and familiar. It was her.

Bonnie woke and turned her head to the window. Daylight streamed through the gauzy white curtains. She looked over to the sleeping body next to her. Elena slept with her face turned into the pillow, one hand beneath it. Bonnie stared at her face, at the faint crease of worry not even sleep smoothed.

She sat up, carefully testing her muscles and head. A little sore, and there was a strange lightness in her head, but she was fine. A flash of fire broke through. Bonnie swallowed. She was fine. She slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were puffy. She smelled smoke on her clothes, that and salt, and oak and pine. The woods? She traveled through what she could remember from the past day. Damon at the table with Akiri. A bonfire. A ring of red women. Water. Night.

Bonnie splashed her face. Nothing but a jumble of images. And Damon. How did she even get here?

"Hey, wobbly. Had a rough night?"

Jeremy stood next to the sink. Bonnie frowned.

"I have no idea."

"You know, drugs are bad. Take it from me." Jeremy grinned and reached for his toothbrush.

"I'm not on drugs," Bonnie said.

"Well, drinking is bad. So is vomiting and passing out in the foyer."

"What?"

Jeremy nodded. "You're lucky I like you so much. Trying to carry you upstairs without getting puke on me was a task I'd rather not repeat."

Embarrassment warmed her face. Bonnie turned from the sink. "Oh God. I'm sorry. That…I don't know what happened…I can't believe…shit," she said.

Jeremy took her arm. "Hey, don't worry about it. Some serious shit happened. I'm glad you spewed and passed out here rather than somewhere else. You're safe here."

Bonnie offered him a small smile. "I'm just sorry I threw up everywhere. Very unattractive."

Jeremy shrugged. "Yes, well," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "you're still kinda cute."

Bonnie swatted his arm away and pushed him. "Shut up," she said when he laughed.

Elena shuffled to the door. She yawned, scratched her head, and squinted. "What's up, guys?"

"God, you look terrible in the morning. Even worse than Upchuck over here."

Elena punched Jeremy in the arm. "Oh, funny. Stick to being a stoner."

"I will, thanks for the permission."

"Idiot."

"Saint."

Bonnie watched them argue and fight over the toothpaste before quietly going downstairs. Jenna had left a note on the stove, something about historical society serfdom for the day and muffins in the stove.

Bonnie helped herself to a banana muffin and orange juice. Elena joined her a few minutes later. They went into the living room and watched Ren and Stimpy, chuckling for half an hour.

"So what happened last night? I tried to pry Damon open but he was unusually tight-lipped," Elena said during a commercial.

Bonnie rubbed her forehead. "I have no idea. It's all a mess up here."

"Let's try to sort it out then."

Bonnie glanced at her. Elena had on that 'earnest and willing to help' expression that usually got them both in trouble.

"I don't know."

"Okay, how about I tell you what I know and we go from there," Elena said. She turned down the television and positioned herself to face Bonnie.

"So. You've been sneaking off to your Grams house almost every afternoon. You've been working with Damon, and last night Damon brought you here unconscious and smelling like a bonfire. He fidgeted a lot, totally out of character, admitted he cared about you, and left. Then you went after him, calling his name, and when he wasn't there you lost your stomach and fainted." Elena raised an eyebrow. Bonnie sat in silence.

"He admitted he cared about me?" Bonnie asked.

"Bonnie—"

"Only in a professional vampire way, right?" Bonnie shook her head. "Yes, of course. Right."

"Can you see where I'm going with this?"

Bonnie shrugged. "No."

"Is there something going on between you two? Something like Damon's idea of a date? Did you, you know," Elena rolled her eyes at Bonnie's perplexed frown, "did you have sex with Damon after a night of debauchery?"

Bonnie flailed. "What? No! Never, no, not, no! Debauchery? Sex? Damon? No. Absolutely not. Farthest thing from actuality. From plausibility."

Elena took Bonnie's arms and stilled her. "Then what's going on? Because you really scared me last night."

Bonnie looked at her for a moment, unsure of how much truth she should tell. Elena wouldn't understand, but she'd try and for some reason, it'll be worse. But if she couldn't tell Elena, the one person in the entire world who she trusted implicitly, then who could she confide in? Bonnie released a heavy sigh.

"Fine. I'll start from the beginning. And don't tell Stefan. This stays between you and me. And maybe Caroline."

* * *

Damon woke up with a blanket thrown over him. Stefan. He felt for the neck of a bottle and snagged an almost empty bottle of 1780 bourbon whisky. He emptied it in one swallow and threw the blanket off. Someone threw back the heavy curtains to let the sun come marching in. Stefan, again.

"This nanny business has to end," Damon called out. He bent down to pick up the various empty bottles off the rug. A tea service rested on the table with all his readings. Coffee, cream, sugar.

"Mrs. Doubtfire strikes again," Damon mumbled. He cleaned the mess of his rather tame abandonment and returned to the tea service, gulping down the coffee. His head began to clear and he remembered the night before, in high definition. Thirst wetted his mouth. He needed some blood, a shower, and a drive to Florida.

The hot water drummed his muscles. The lemongrass scented steam calmed his mind. He needed to think. Logically. He had too much on his fucking plate. Werewolf business, Katherine, moonstones, curses, and now bad juju witch business. Shit. And feelings.

"Let's not forget those," he said into the spray. And they had to be so damn complicated. Tricky. Sneaky.

Damon stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He went to the sink and stared into the mirror. Not a day over twenty-one. Ha. He tensed and darted to the opposite wall, pinning a soft body against it.

She looked the same, felt the same, and smiled exactly the same.

"What a welcome greeting."

Damon squeezed the hand around her throat. "Katherine."

Katherine rolled her eyes and suddenly Damon was on the floor, Katherine straddling his hips, her hands on his shoulders.

"You and Stefan always seem to forget that I'm stronger, faster, better. It's cute."

"I'm sorry, our minds have been on other things for the past century and a half."

Katherine smiled. Her lips hovered above his.

"I can tell you missed me."

She rolled her hips. Damon flipped them over and kissed that smile off her lips. It was brutal and hungry and he felt as through he was drowning. Katherine. Her hair twisted around his fingers and her skin tasted like cherries, his favorite. They clawed at each other, gasping, working on her clothes. Her hands grabbed his ass and pressed his erection into her crotch. Damon moaned against her throat.

"See? You're not so indifferent to me after all," Katherine whispered in his ear. She bit the lobe. A hot flash of anger cut through the lust. Damon pushed off her and went to the corner of the room.

He heard her laugh. "I have a weakness for pretty brunettes with long legs," he said.

"Oh, yes, I know. Especially for ones who are identical to me. Tell me," Katherine stood up and shook her hair, "who were you just about to fuck, me or Elena?"

Damon snarled at her. Katherine lifted a shoulder. "I don't mind. It's only sex."

"The years have made you vulgar. But you have always been a twisted little bitch, haven't you?"

Katherine buckled her belt without taking her eyes off him. "And you have always been such a romantic cuckold. Really, you are pathetic. Even now, you want to hate me, but you can't. Because you _love _me."

He nearly forgot his disadvantage then. Katherine bared her teeth, her eyes swimming in blood. "Uh uh, careful. I like you, but only so much, and only because Stefan would never forgive me if I tore you apart."

It was as if a switch turned off. Damon sagged back. Stefan, again. Still. Only. Terrible, formless thoughts filled his head. Hatred. The world burning down. Destruction. Love meant nothing. At least his love meant nothing. Damon stared at her, this object of his undying love for nearly two centuries. He saw Elena there, softer, benevolent, but with the same intention, the same feelings.

"What do you want?"

Katherine eyed him. Her face went from playful to serious in an instant. "I need your help."

Damon straightened. "Let me put on a dress and some makeup first."

"Mind if I watch?" Katherine asked with a grin.

* * *

The one thing to know about Katherine was there was always, always an ulterior motive. Simple was not an adjective used to describe her. Maybe at one time, a moment when she was young, but it was so fleeting it never made an impression. So Damon listened to her talk about Akiri, the witches, the moonstone, and the curse and kept his bullshit meter at about 50.

Damon sipped some chilled AB neg before asking, "Cool story and all, but where does any of my business come in?"

Katherine glared at him. "I know your witch has the moonstone."

"So?"

"I want it. This is bigger than Akiri and her witch council."

"_Her_ witch council? Aren't you just as involved in this retrieval mission?"

Katherine sniffed. "My involvement only goes to far."

"Ah," Damon drank the rest of the blood, "you were only in it for your own purposes, and then, let me guess, your own purposes hitched itself to a better deal."

"Don't gloat, Damon. It makes you look like drunk tick."

"And to think of all the things you used to do to this tick," Damon replied. Katherine crossed her legs and sat back. She watched him for some time.

"I could kill you, you know that."

Damon nodded. "Good thing I'm so handy."

"I also know that, with such leech-like ability, you've attached yourself to Bonnie Bennett. I know of her increasing importance to you."

Damon stood up with a laugh. "Let me stop you right there. You can threaten to kill her. As a matter of fact, go ahead, try. I'll gladly dump your shriveled up ass in some shit sewer."

He went to stand in front of the windows and watch the sprinklers drown the lawn. Katherine came to stand next to him. She peered at his face.

"I should have let you had your way earlier. It would have made this easier."

"Maybe," he said.

"I need the moonstone. There's…someone coming, someone who wants it more than I do, who will literally raze this town and slaughter every single person you know just to glimpse at it. I am nothing compared to what's coming."

Damon looked on her. The truth sounded strange coming from her. So did fear. He could taste it. Interesting.

"Who is coming?"

Katherine shook her head. "Get me the moonstone and I'll give you an address."

"Why do you want the moonstone?"

"Collateral."

Damon looked out at the arc of glittering water. "Sure. Well, Bonnie doesn't have it. Akiri does. And I went and soured that relationship, so."

Katherine sighed with impatience. "Fine. Then we'll get the moonstone. It'll take two of us anyway."

"Two of us to do what?"

Katherine's mouth twisted into a grin. "To kill Akiri, of course."


	14. Kindling

A/N: Things start to come together. Part I of III. Enjoy.

* * *

Kindling

Bonnie watched the morning arrive. Sleep had been impossible ever since the severe magic concussion. Closing her eyes meant dreams about fire and black wings, and she had enough crazy crap going on to let her mind drive her insane. Besides, her body seemed on a different wavelength that required only fifteen minutes to recharge. She felt powerful, but hesitated to test it. She wasn't ready to repeat the events of three days ago.

Her thoughts turned to Damon. Not a word since he dumped her at Elena's. Unusual, but then he did admit to caring for her in some capacity. Bonnie reasoned he was on an extended bender, screwing and drinking and killing in order to be the perfect vampire when he showed his face. A part of her, small and insignificant, wished he stopped trying to be a dick. That part of her wanted the Damon who she felt compelled to trust, the one who sniffed out Coq Au Vin and grasped her hand like it was a lifeline. It was a stupid, naïve, completely lame part of herself she wanted absolutely zero association with.

But she thought of him through brushing her teeth and getting ready for school and settling in for first period. Bonnie chewed her pen cap in PreCalculus, thinking of the last time she saw him instead of worrying with functions. By American History, Bonnie had formulated a complex plan to drop by the Manor and casually investigate whether or not Damon was still alive.

"How was space?" Elena asked as they exited the class.

"Hm?"

Elena stared at her. Bonnie waved a hand. "Oh, yeah. I've got a lot on my mind. Papers, practice, you know."

"Damon?"

They stopped in front of Bonnie's locker. She concentrated on the lock despite Elena's prying look. Bonnie called it the "pick axe" and it had a success rate of ninety-five percent. But not today. Today she had to seem normal busy.

"Why would I preoccupy myself with Damon?"

"Because you guys have been bonding. And bonding with Damon is either good or bad, no gray."

Bonnie reached into her locker and exchanged a book for a binder. "Like I said, Damon and I have an understanding. He provides the added muscle, I provide the brains."

"But—"

Bonnie closed the locker with a tired smile. "Elena, that's all it is, okay?"

Elena frowned and cinched her bag straps, frustrated. "Fine, okay, I guess. What are you doing for free period?"

Bonnie shrugged. "I'll probably hit the library or go home, take a nap."

"Don't oversleep, we have a quiz in Bio," Elena said. Bonnie made a face and they parted ways. Bonnie waited until Elena disappeared to speed down the hall and out the school. She tossed her backpack in the backseat of her car and took off to Salvatore Manor.

Doubt started to take huge chunks out of her reserve as Bonnie pulled up the drive. He might be home, in one of his moods, and then it would seem as though…Bonnie looked at her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Bonnie left the car and jogged the short distance to the front door. She knew they left it unlocked but she used the doorknocker anyway.

Stefan answered. He smiled at her and stepped aside to let her in. "Shouldn't you be in school?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you?"

They grinned at each other. Stefan led her to the front room. Numerous dusty looking leather bound books were on the tables and strewn about the chairs. Loose sheets of yellowed paper were spread over every available table space. Bonnie raised an eyebrow.

"What's going on?"

Stefan held up a book. "I'm on my way to becoming an expert on the sun and moon curse."

Bonnie read the spine of another book. "Sumerian stories? Is the curse that old?"

"I don't know. The earliest I dated the curse is the 11th century, in Viking lore, but stories about vampires and werewolves predate the Vikings. So I'm digging, trying to piece everything together."

"This all sounds very…"

"Scholastic?"

"No, boring," Bonnie said. Stefan grinned again.

"Well, your help would be more than welcomed. I've forgotten most of my Latin."

Stefan picked up a yellow sheet and scanned it. Bonnie searched for a way to broach the purpose of her visit since Stefan had to be a gentleman about everything.

"You can't do this on your own. I'm sure Alaric knows something, and then there's Damon…" Bonnie made sure her eyes were on a book before Stefan turned to glance at her.

"Alaric, yes. Damon," Stefan sighed, "Damon is a separate issue altogether."

Bonnie casually latched onto Stefan's aggravation. "He hasn't been helping?"

"He helps in his own spectacularly stupid way. I shouldn't even complain," Stefan returned to the paper in hand, "at least he's not out snapping necks and destroying property."

She suppressed her own irritation. This roundabout way led nowhere but to vague. A clock chimed throughout the house. Bonnie checked her watch. She had an hour before that Bio quiz.

"Hey, Stefan, I was wondering if—"

"Bonnie, can you do me a favor?" Stefan straightened from bending over a stack of papers.

Bonnie rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Sure."

"I think Damon moved a collection of Roman myths and legends to his personal library. Can you check? I could have sworn they were around here."

Bonnie looked around in disbelief. "Are you asking me to search Damon's room?"

Stefan blinked at her. "He's not home, if that's your concern. Hasn't been in three days." He lifted a shoulder. "I doubt he'll even notice you looked."

Bonnie was about to protest when the opportunity dawned on her. She nodded and hurried to the staircase. "What's the name?"

"I don't know, something Roman," Stefan responded. He listened to her climb the stairs with a smile.

* * *

The only time Bonnie had seen the upstairs was the morning after her disastrous first confrontation with the tomb vampires. She took a wrong turn and ended up in what had to be Stefan's room. Elena's shirt draped over a chair. Bonnie hastily backed out and went the opposite way. Soon she encountered a tidy study. A liquor cabinet near the window screamed Damon. Two identical vintage leather jackets hung on a coat rack near the door. How many irreplaceable vintage jackets did one asshole have? She shook her head and perused the room.

It reminded her of one of those Ivy League reading rooms she saw in college pamphlets, even down to the rug and the old wood and leather wingback chair. A large desk sat nearer to the window. A closed laptop and a few black folders were the only items on the desk. She moved around and saw multiple drawers, but they had keyholes and she knew Damon well enough to know what needed a key would be locked.

Besides, anyone who went looking for something would naturally head to a desk, open the laptop, scan the folders, break into locked places.

"Too easy," said Bonnie. She spotted a door. Through it was a bathroom. "Now where was this the last time?" She passed through to the door opposite and found herself in Damon's bedroom.

Now that Damon and his overwhelming ego weren't here to harass her, Bonnie got a feel for his space. Open, uncluttered, and modern. There were no immediate or obvious signs of a past remembered. She went to the made bed that looked entirely too large for one person. She touched the white sheets. Soft. So many adjectives and not one of them relatable to the Damon she knew.

Her eye swept past the bedside table, hovered over a painting of a woman lounging on a green chaise, and landed on a small linen cabinet. A folded map, a charging mat, and a bottle of cologne she couldn't pronounce sat on top. Two of the slim drawers were open, and the glass doors stood slightly ajar. She opened the doors. Stacked inside was an assortment of Moleskin journals and address books. She pulled out a rather worn journal and opened it to a random page. He wrote in a tight cursive, and was fluent in French. She tucked the journal back and picked up another one. Italian. Another one. Dutch.

Bonnie peeked at another journal before giving up. Pointless. She pulled out a drawer and found a small carmine notebook. A black satin ribbon marked a page. Verona Paige, 8456 Elder Lane, St. Augustine, Fl. Next to the name was a star. She flipped through the book. All the names had stars. Some had been crossed out, some had dates going back to 1948, all were commonly considered female names. She came back to the marked page. Verona.

Bonnie stood and sat in a chair close to the bed. Stefan hadn't seen him in three days. She looked at the address again. Went back to the cabinet and unfolded the map. Followed a red ink line from Richmond to the upper northeast coast of Florida.

A growing sense of unease transformed a rational curiosity for his whereabouts into rational concern. She considered using his laptop but whipped out her phone instead. A few minutes later, her concern turned to trepidation.

Besides it taking a day to drive to and back from St. Augustine, a quick search of Verona Paige produced a herbalist shop, an occult website, and the picture of a very beautiful woman currently going through a nasty divorce from her wealthy third husband. One look at the photo and Bonnie felt a twinge of recognition. Power. Magic.

She returned everything the way she found it and went to his study to pace. There were two ways to know for sure: magic and calling him. Using magic felt sneaky, but then again she just went through his things. Calling him meant the very real possibility of admitting her concern for him. Bonnie winced at the mere thought of it. Caring was such a bitch.

She checked her watch. It was a quarter to one. If she didn't show up to Bio, Elena would know something was up and contact Stefan or Caroline and she'd be screwed. The mystery would have to wait.

Bonnie practically galloped down the steps. "Stefan! I didn't find the books. I gotta go, I'll be back later to help with the Latin."

Stefan might have responded but she was out the door and in her car in a few seconds. She zoomed down the road and turned onto Maple, then made a right instead of a left at the cemetery. As much as Bonnie wanted to table the situation, her gut instinct obliterated reason and steered her to the one person she knew could help.

* * *

The construction of a spell was time consuming, even for an old, potent witch. One word without the proper intention could spoil entire months work, and then there were the steps to destroy all traces of it, the hassle of starting again, the sheer torture of searching for exactly the right words to match the exact meaning and, in sum, the purpose for the spell.

Crafting was never Akiri's strong suit. She relied on intuition and instinct to create. All her spells resided not in a book but her emotions, in the memory of the language as it came from her lips. If a spell required actual notation, then she cobbled it together from various grimoires, and if pressed, she'd sit and write it on the back of the nearest paper.

But this spell required more attention, more care, and more work than Akiri imagined. It had never been attempted and so she worked blind, without the help of history or rumor. Nature even seemed resistant to her. The herbs and spices, some of them precious, turned before she could ground them into her ink. And when she, finally, made a bottle, the feather quills became brittle and the paper molded. She maintained her patience, despite the setbacks, and nature rewarded her for every trial.

Akiri passed her the tip of a red hawk feather through a flame and dipped it in a small jar of ink. She hunched over the patchwork mess of her grimoire. Three black dots swelled on the dusky pink paper. The final couplet. These words would be the key in the door, turning the lock, opening up the possible to reality. These words would be the fulfillment of centuries of desire.

She felt his touch on her cheek, tracing the ridge of her ear. _We can have it all_, he would whisper. And she never wanted it until he showed her.

Akiri let the ink dry on the quill. Joshua pervaded her thoughts and senses. She touched the thread between them. It was fragile, growing weaker every day. She thought of the thread disintegrating. The imagined pain forced her from the table. She went to the kitchen and quickly poured a tall glass of tequila. The alcohol eased the sharpness of total despair long enough for Akiri to tuck the link away.

Retuning back to the spell, Akiri cleared her thoughts. She read through what was written. Words began to form and she picked up the red feather, passed the bone through the flame, dipped it in the ink, and touched the tip to paper. A knock on the front door rankled her concentration.

Akiri went to the door, distracted. It was her distraction that potentially doomed her.

She opened the door and fine, fragrant green powder flew into her face. She stumbled back, tripped, and tried to use her power but she couldn't think, couldn't focus. A grip tightened on her throat and hefted her up.

"Where's the moonstone?" Damon asked.

Akiri coughed, screwing up her eyes. Damon threw her into a wall. She bounced of a sideboard and hit the ground, brought baskets and candles and mail with her. The minute pause gave her time to assess the situation. The powder muted her strength. Her limbs were heavy and the more she tried to call upon her power, the weaker she became.

Damon walked into her line of vision. There was a touch and then she flew across the room. Akiri sailed into a couch with such force it flipped and the hard wood floor smacked the breath from her. One more hit and she would go unconscious. She remembered the candle in the study. She felt its flame expanding, felt its heat spread along her skin and blood. Its energy cleared her vision. She saw him clearly, coming towards her. When he hauled her up, she spoke.

"Stop, please."

Damon squeezed her arm until the joints popped. Pain blossomed but her anger was dull in comparison. Akiri managed a whimper and a couple of fearful tears.

"The next time I have to ask, I break your arm. The moonstone."

Akiri hesitated. He applied more pressure.

"It's in a vase. In the kitchen."

Damon pulled her with to the kitchen and shoved her against the island. He gazed at the collection of colored vases sitting along the windowsill.

"Which one?"

When Akiri only stared at him, he smashed one. He went through the row until the moonstone appeared in the midst of damp soil, gardenias, and blue shards of glass. Damon picked it up and held it to the light. He glanced at Akiri and smiled.

"You know what happens next, right?"

Akiri watched him stand and move closer. "You kill me."

Damon shook his head. "No, that's too obvious. She kills you."

Akiri whirled around just as Katherine flew at her, knocking her over the island. Akiri heard her arm break as Katherine twisted it. Katherine grasped her throat and lifted her head a few inches. She grinned as Akiri stared up at her.

"You're expendable, Akiri. Remember?"

"Yes," Akiri said. She smiled. "I remember."

Katherine went hurtling through the air and crashed into the dining room table. Damon inched forward and Akiri sent a wooden knife centimeters from his heart. His scream broke the silence in the house. Katherine growled, bared her teeth, and charged at Akiri. A psychic blow sent her reeling; another one had her on the ground. Akiri looked wildly to the kitchen entrance.

Bonnie stepped inside. Her eyes went to Akiri, then to the struggling figure behind her.

"Damon?"

* * *

"They used some kind of powder to disorient me," Akiri said. Bonnie stared at Damon. He lay slumped against the refrigerator. The handle of a chopping knife protruded from his chest. Blood soaked his shirt. He growled as he tried to take hold of the handle, but every touch edged the blade closer to his heart.

Akiri insisted on leaving the knife in. Bonnie didn't have a mind to disagree. She watched him struggle, watched the blood saturate his shirt, and wondered when he would pass out from the blood loss. Damon raised his eyes to hers and she looked away, shocked to find a strange ache in her chest, a blurring behind her eyes.

"What do we do now? They know the plan," Bonnie said.

Akiri turned the moonstone in her hand. A dusky bruise began to form on her cheek and around an eye. Her lip bled. Bonnie listened to her wheeze. She knew the answer. She hoped Akiri would come to a different conclusion, at least for Damon.

"We kill them, naturally," Akiri said. Bonnie heard Damon growl and grasp as he hastened to latch onto the handle.

"And how exactly do you propose we do that? Stefan is his brother, and my friend. And Katherine must have had a reason to attack you. We can't just kill her without finding out who helped her and why."

Akiri righted a stool and sat. She held the moonstone to her forehead and closed her eyes. Bonnie waited. If Akiri wanted to kill them, what could she do? She wasn't powerful enough to challenge her. But she would have to do something. Could she send Damon away? That would use all her power. And the process might kill him. She could weave a spell preventing further harm. But she would need his blood and she couldn't just walk over to him and poke his wound.

"You want to save him after he tried to kill me," Akiri said. She locked her eyes on Bonnie. "Why?"

Bonnie's mouth went dry. She shook her head. "I…it's not like what you're suggesting."

"Then enlighten me."

Bonnie felt a slight strain on her hold on Katherine. A headache formed behind her eyes. She made a fist, digging her nails into her palm. A little truth and a little lie made the best story. Grams told her that.

"He helped me and I owe him," Bonnie glanced down at Damon, "I trusted him. And he has betrayed that. Consider this a parting gift." Bonnie looked at Akiri. "If you'll grant it."

Akiri raised an eyebrow. "Convincing. Damon shall live. But Katherine…you're right. We know too little." She got up and went to the prostrate body. Katherine bared her teeth at her.

"What to do with you?" Akiri whispered. Her eyes traveled over Katherine's face.

"You mentioned Stefan Salvatore."

Bonnie swallowed. "Yes."

"Call him, tell him to come. He will be of use."

Bonnie hesitated before placing the call.


	15. Flint

A/N: Part II of III. Enjoy.

* * *

The sun had just begun to set when Stefan appeared. Bonnie waited for him on the porch. They exchanged a silent greeting before Akiri joined them.

Stefan held out his hand. "We haven't been properly introduced. Stefan Salvatore."

Akiri took his hand. "Akiri Beraht." She dropped it and showed him her palm. His ring glinted in the half-light. Stefan immediately hid in the long shadows of the porch.

"That was unnecessary. I mean no harm."

"Regardless, this is my insurance just in case you do."

Two dark eyes glittered in the shadows. "The sun sets in ten minutes, Akiri. That's how long that insurance will last."

Akiri lifted a shoulder. "All the time I need. You see, Mr. Salvatore, your brother tried to murder me. I should kill him, but he's valuable to you, and Bonnie is indebted to him. She has convinced me to let him live, but I need an assurance from you."

Stefan glanced at Bonnie. "Did he hurt you?"

Bonnie said nothing. Stefan sighed. "What would you have me do?"

Akiri turned to face the sunset. "Put Katherine Pierce and your brother in the tomb."

Stefan cocked his head. "You want me to imprison Damon."

"Think of it as a way of keeping him out of trouble."

"For how long? Forever? Katherine will kill him."

Bonnie stepped forward. "She won't. We've taken care of that. He'll stay in the tomb for a week at most. And then I'll lift the spell long enough to get him out."

Akiri held out her hand. "This is all I require to forget. Are we in accordance?"

Stefan was silent for some time. Bonnie felt him watching her and ignored the silent appeal. Damon in the tomb was a special kind of karma. She couldn't outright argue against it.

Just as darkness began to descend, Stefan stepped forward and shook the offered hand. "After a week he comes out and you're gone from Mystic Falls."

Akiri smiled. "Agreed." She turned to Bonnie. "Bring them out."

Damon waited in the living room. Katherine shifted restlessly in his arms, trying to get at his blood. It made keeping the pain at a minimum impossible. Akiri was adept at torture. He admired her for this when he didn't want to rip off her limbs.

A light step brought his head up. Bonnie stopped at the rug. Her face reminded him of that night when they buried the carnie. Closed, but her eyes were splinters of steel.

"Stefan is here."

"Jimmy Carter came through. I wasn't worried."

"The sooner we do this, the sooner you heal."

Damon tightened his arms around Katherine's limp, desiccated body and stood. He grunted and nearly fell back but Bonnie had his arm.

"I thought you were done doing me favors."

"I am. I don't want to expend any more energy by carrying you," Bonnie said. She changed her grip to stand a little behind him with both hands on his upper arms. The warmth he usually felt whenever they were close dampened to cool.

"Use your legs. Let's go," she said. Damon walked unsteadily towards the front door. The pain made him sweat. He had to hand it to Akiri. Breaking off the tip of the knife and then removing the rest was ingenious. If he hadn't made her an enemy, she would be a fine addition to his shortlist of friends.

Stefan didn't hasten to him when Damon stepped out on the porch. Damon read the fury in Stefan's furrowed brow. Stefan did his best to hide the shock of seeing Katherine dry as a piece of jerky.

"She looks as though she hasn't fed in decades," Stefan said.

"I stripped the blood from her veins. She's weakened, though not completely," Akiri said.

Stefan looked to Damon. "Can you carry her?"

Damon nodded. He couldn't, not another step, but damn Stefan for riding up on his white horse. He'd rather crawl than have his brother clean up his mess and carry around the bucket.

Akiri stopped them before leaving. She slipped Stefan's ring around Bonnie's thumb. "Return when it is done. We have work to do."

Bonnie nodded. She glanced at Stefan. He came over and placed a hand on Damon's shoulder. Together they maneuvered Damon down the porch steps and towards the woods.

* * *

Not a word passed as they trekked to the tomb. The only sounds came from Bonnie stepping over twigs and leaves and Katherine muffling and groaning for Damon's blood. The moon rose slowly. The darkness deepened. The moonlight seemed to settle amongst the branches of trees, leaving those on the ground in clear black.

Bonnie went from directing Damon to following the subtle shifts of his movement. They paused once for Stefan to gauge the distance to the tomb. He pointed ahead and Damon lifted a shoulder. They veered slightly to the west. Bonnie didn't question it. Her thoughts kept her occupied.

Her foot scraped against paved stone. They had reached the tomb. Stefan led the way down. Bonnie looked up through the hole she made when she fell so long. The moon hovered above, unreachable.

Stefan said something about light. Bonnie reached out and wood brushed her fingertips. Fire instantly lit the torch. The flames flickered a few inches from her face then Stefan swept the light towards the cleft in the rock. The door had been removed. She shivered as cold, musty air drafted towards them.

"Can we go in?" Stefan asked. His eyes were grim. Bonnie dropped her hand from Damon's arm and moved towards the opening. The spell buffeted her face. It had been so strong to lift the first time, nearly impossible. It took Grams life. They were supposed to trap them all in there, Stefan and Damon, and collapse the entire thing. But Elena had begged and Stefan…Stefan was good. But he wouldn't leave without Damon. He wouldn't leave his brother.

Bonnie closed her eyes. She was presented with the same choice. It seemed she would make the same mistake.

"No, you can't."

Bonnie went to Damon and dragged Katherine out of his arms. The two brothers wore identical quizzical expressions. A fine sheen of sweat made Damon look feverish. He came forward but faltered and Stefan grasped his arm.

"I'll put her inside. You two go. Akiri won't know the difference if Damon stays away."

Bonnie pulled Katherine towards the entrance. Stefan set Damon against a wall and stopped her.

"Katherine could still overpower you in this state. Not to mention what will happen when Akiri finds out."

"I'm not as weak as you think, Stefan. And not when, if."

Stefan threw a glance at Damon. "When."

Bonnie grinned. "Don't pull the knife tip out until you stuff him in one of those detox rooms you have in the cellar. Let him suffer for a week. He deserves it."

Stefan sighed. "You don't have to do this."

"I know," she said. Stefan gave her the torch and Bonnie thrust it into the opening as she resumed pulling. Katherine strained against her but not with enough force to make it difficult.

She dragged Katherine until her arm was sore and she couldn't see the crevice opening with the torch. She deposited Katherine against a wall with bones and feathers and scraps of cloth littering the ground.

"Looks like you've finally made it to where you're supposed to be," Bonnie said. She passed the torch over Katherine's face. Her skin was gray and wrinkled, the bones of her face prominent. Her eyes opened and they were dark pits with bits of yellow. Is this what Elena would look like in decay? It disturbed her. Bonnie backed away but not quick enough.

Katherine grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. Bonnie held the torch like a club, ready to bash it into the side of her head.

"Protect…Elena," Katherine said.

Bonnie tried to break the vice on her wrist. "You're in here. She'll be safe now."

"You stupid…little girl," Katherine said. She pulled Bonnie closer Katherine's papery leather skin brushed her cheek.

"The doppelganger…must be protected."

"From who?"

"Blood," Katherine whispered. A dry lick on her throat catapulted the adrenaline through her veins. Bonnie reared up and flew back to the dirt floor. The torch snuffed out at the same time she heard a skittering laugh.

Bonnie fled.

* * *

Stefan waited until Katherine's booted feet disappeared into the tomb before going to Damon.

"How deep is it?"

Damon closed an eye. "One or two centimeters left of the right ventricle. Got your scalpel ready McBroody?"

"Shut up, Damon," Stefan said. He dug his fingers into the wound and carefully fished for the knife tip. Damon sucked in air. Stefan extracted the wood in one clean pull. Damon gasped and fell over on his side, clutching his chest.

"That witch is so fucking dead," Damon coughed.

Stefan rocked back on his heels. "She could have killed you."

"She would have killed me." Damon eased forward onto his hands and knees. Stefan's face bobbed before him.

Stefan clapped his shoulder. "But Bonnie dissuaded her and here we are."

Damon shoved his hand away. Stefan stood and went to the tomb entrance.

"Careful, you might trip and fall over your goodness and end up right where Katherine wants you," Damon said. Stefan gave him a tight smile and continued peering into the tomb.

Damon pushed himself up. He moved too slowly. He needed blood. No blood bag tonight. A young lady perhaps. He eyed his brother and shuffled over to stand opposite him.

"Well?"

Stefan gazed at him blankly.

Damon looked into the tomb. "Go ahead, Dr. Phil. Tough love me into the fetal position."

Stefan shrugged. "Nothing I say seems to make any difference to you. You do something idiotic and I fix it. This is our routine. I've accepted it."

"Really Stefan? The passive-aggressive technique? I'm disappointed in you."

Stefan watched Damon for a full thirty seconds. It was a simple look that belied the weight of years. It brought the details and the nuances of this particular discretion and those of the past to the forefront.

Stefan had always been the savior. He would always be the savior. It was a complex he remembered Stefan developing when he was little. Whenever Father got a little too tyrannical, Stefan's erstwhile goodness and belief in his brother, right or wrong, either softened or ceased the blows. Damon had come to appreciate it, as a human. As a vampire, he loathed it. Damon never looked into why, only how it affected him. To be forced to live when he wanted to die was a betrayal he couldn't overcome. No matter how many times they saved each other. He meant what he promised. But so did Stefan.

What did he want? Damon searched the cold, dark air for an answer. Honesty, to be confided in, brotherly love? He didn't know if he was capable of giving those things. But he was capable of loving his brother's girl, who happened to look exactly like their old flame? He was capable of complicated feelings for…her, the witch friend? Damon caught Stefan glancing at him.

"Akiri has to go. She's a threat."

Stefan crossed his arms. "To whom?"

Damon measured the words before he said them. Consequence and implication and all that. He rubbed the rapidly healing wound on his chest. "We can't afford to lose Bonnie to some witch with delusions. She's the trump card."

"There are other ways to keep Bonnie safe, Damon. Sane ways. Ways that don't lead here."

"But those ways are no fun," Damon said. Stefan ducked his head to hide the grin.

"To be honest, I don't know how it came to this. One minute I couldn't care less, the next I'm thinking I need to protect her. What happened in the between?"

Stefan let the question hang. It was spoken softly to the opening, the dark. He didn't know what to make of this new thing. Did it frighten him? Absolutely. It was unexpected, volatile, could destroy more than the two of them, but it was also a relief. Damon's eye was on someone else, someone who wasn't so keen to play nice and regard feelings.

"You can't treat her the same way. She's different."

Damon smiled. "They're all the same in the dark."

Stefan only looked at him.

"I know, Stefan," Damon sighed, "I know."

Bonnie leaned into a fissure of rock, listening. Her heart pounded in her ears. She shook all over. He asked what happened in the between as though he asked her and she wanted to respond, "Too much." Everything about them was too much. She kept making the same mistakes. She couldn't make any more.

She inhaled and pushed off the rock. She ran the rest of the way, bursting out of the tomb. Damon caught her, caught himself, and let her go in the matter of seconds. She didn't look at him. Instead she looked to Stefan.

"Katherine told me something. About Elena."

Stefan narrowed his eyes. "Is it worth repeating?"

"She said to protect Elena. That she's the doppelganger and that she had to be protected from someone."

Damon thought back to that someone Katherine had mentioned. "Did she give a name?"

Bonnie kept her eyes on Stefan. "No. But at least you have a clue. Someone else wants the moonstone. And we don't know of the doppelganger. It might be related to the curse."

"So we just need to find out who wants both and problem solved," Damon said.

Stefan rubbed his eyes. "We can do that back at the manor, after we fill everyone in."

Bonnie licked her lips. "This is where I'm going to have to get off."

Damon came around to face her. "What?"

"I can't be involved. There are…other things I have to do. I made a promise."

"So one supersedes the other? Because she can teach you to fly a broomstick?"

Bonnie tensed her jaw and looked past him to Stefan. "I'm sorry. I'll talk to Elena tomorrow and explain. But I can't help anymore."

Stefan nodded. "We can't do anything about this now. I'll take you back to Akiri. Maybe she'd be willing to—"

"No, I don't want her knowing. And I don't need an escort. I have more to do," she handed Stefan his ring, "take your brother home, keep him out of sight."

Stefan shook his head. "The woods are too dark, you might get lost."

"I'll be fine, Stefan. Please go."

"Hey," Damon barked, "don't talk around me." He turned to Stefan. "Go home, Stef, call the Half-Assed Brigade to assemble. Maleficent and I need to confab."

Bonnie pursed her lips. "Go Stefan. I'll be fine."

Damon and Bonnie engaged in a nonverbal, nonphysical tussle before Stefan even left the crypt. Damon waited until Stefan was out of hearing range before he let loose the first arrow.

"Akiri is insane."

"And you're such an excellent judge on sanity?"

"I am because I'm insane. We crazy supernatural people recognize each other."

"You know, I'm done talking about this. Goodbye Damon," she said. She went to climb the crypt steps but Damon blocked the way.

"You're making a huge mistake. Massive. It pains me to see you behaving with such colossal stupidity."

Bonnie stepped back. "I know why you're so pissed. No more trump card."

Damon let his words startle him for a moment. "I won't deny it. You're a weapon that's gone self-aware. But that's not all you are, Bonnie. I know that. Akiri doesn't."

"Stop saying you know me. Stop saying you know and they don't. You don't know shit. All you know is how to destroy and then joke about it."

"Bonnie—"

"Get off me," she shook off his arm and jogged up the steps out into the open. The air cooled her face but she couldn't get enough of it into her lungs. She tried to calm herself but it was too late. Something had happened when he said her name and took her arm. She was losing against the heat of closeness. It didn't make any sense and she was tired of trying to hide it, sweeping it away. There it was again, curling up her spine.

"Whenever you're around, there's this heat. It screws with my instinct to kill you. It makes it harder and harder to…not miss it. And I missed it. While you were gone scheming to kill Akiri, I missed the heat. I missed being around it. So I went snooping. And I went to Akiri and there you were."

Bonnie turned. Damon stood a few feet from her. The moonlight had moved beyond the trees to fall over the ground. She saw his face, the intensity of his blue eyes and his still mouth and the heat grew to hot. Thoughts crashed together, splintering off into more thoughts, more feelings, adding to the thing between them. The 'too much'.

"I feel it too. Ever since you tried to roast me. I thought it was a spell, retribution, whatever. Then I thought it was one-sided. And then that kiss happened." Damon shifted his weight. "It might have changed things between us, but I never meant it to stick."

"So the solution is to murder anyone else who helps me?"

Damon sighed. "Bonnie, you're not hearing me. She wants to turn a vampire into a human. It's impossible. If vampires already go against nature, then what does it mean to convert something that is dead back to actual life?"

"We go against nature all the time, Damon. Every time I save you or you me, we violate the basic rules. If we can have this connection, as fucked up as it is, then she can turn a vampire into a human."

"She's not powerful enough."

"She is. I know her strength and she—"

Damon sprang forward and grabbed her arms. "You will die!" He peered into her face, eyes narrowed. "Do you get that? Another confrontation with that witch council and you won't wake up. What do I say to Elena? Or Caroline?" His eyes practically burrowed into hers. "How do I justify letting you die to myself?"

It was like lightening struck her. Every cell electrified. Her mind went blank for a few seconds, then a wall of fire rose before her. She threw up her arms and fell back. A figure stood in the flames, so familiar. Cold sweat broke out all over and she dropped her arms with a scream. It echoed all around, doubling, tripling, until the roar of the fire and her scream were one. She lurched forward with hands outstretched and felt the solid weight of a body. It thrashed and she pulled. Blue eyes the color of early sky gazed up at her. Her blistered hands touched crisped black hair.

"Damon."

"Bonnie."

It was dark. They were in the woods. Damon cupped her face. Moisture tickled her cheeks and fractured her sight. She raised her hands to wipe it away. Her fingers collided with his. He brushed back her tears, staring silently into her face.

"It was a vision," Bonnie whispered. She fixed her eyes on his. He had been burned alive and she was there. Did she do it? The amount of energy it took to sustain an element that long with that much power—she wouldn't be capable of that for years. Another witch. Why was Damon there? For _you_, her mind screamed, _you._

Bonnie forcibly extricated herself from him and stood away. "Consider our promise fulfilled."

"What happened? What did you see?"

"I saw you being burned alive because you won't leave me alone," Bonnie snapped. "The one thing that screws up every single plan is you, Damon. You. For once," she closed her eyes, "for _once_, stay out of my business, stay out of my life. Stay away." She opened them to see his face shut off.

"Then consider our truce null. Don't come around Elena. I don't want her getting caught up in whatever shit you're in." Damon gave her the once over. "You wanted me as an enemy, Bonnie. I hope I live up to it."

She blinked and he was gone. Bonnie remained immobile for five minutes until it became too much to swallow. She sank to the forest floor and covered her face with her hands. All she saw were blue eyes in a charred face.


	16. Sparks

**A/N: **Here's the proof that I have not fully abandoned this fic. It means that I've had to stop work on my other fanfic, but it's worth it to revisit Damon and Bonnie, especially in this story's incarnation. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Sparks

Saturday

The night passed in a blur of alcohol, blood, lights, and flesh. The world spun and lurched and at some point Damon stumbled and didn't get up until the afternoon. He awoke without the hangover, but he still felt like shit on fire. Reddish gold strands obstructed his vision. He brushed the hair from his face and looked down. A naked girl covered him like a sheet. He felt for any broken skin on her neck and found it smooth. He eased her off and onto her back, eyes roaming over her body for any bites. He saw a bruise on her inner thigh. Two puncture marks close to her crotch.

Damon bit his finger and dabbed a few drops of blood on the wounds. A half empty bottle of Johnnie Walker lay at her feet. He finished the bottle before waking the girl. She smiled up at him and twined her legs around his waist. The moment she opened her pretty brown eyes, he compelled her to forget the night, forget the sex, forget him.

The girl fell back to sleep. He got dressed and stole a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches from her purse. Acrid smoke filled his lungs as he jogged down the tenement stairs and burst out into the bright glare of a New York afternoon. The sounds of the city called him to remain and lose another few days, but his feet turned towards Penn Station.

Damon ambled across town, smoking and gazing sightless behind sunglasses. A warm breeze ruffled his hair and clothes. He smelled the night on him, the perfume, the saliva from strangers. He tried to retain the picture of last night, but only the sense remained. Abandon, wantonness, stupor. The sun beat down on his head and neck. Its weight bent his eyes to the striated gray pavement.

He came to a busy intersection and stood with the rest of the pedestrians. They were all in various degrees of distraction, either on the phone or texting or talking to themselves or another person or deep in their brains. Damon heard a laugh, a familiar throaty chuckle and saw a flash of movement beyond the stream of cars. There it was again. Emerald green and gold. Brown skin glittering in the sunlight. Pink lips pulled into a grin. He nearly stepped off the curb. It wasn't her. But it was. For a second, it was her.

The signal lit for his section to cross. The crowd propelled him past the girl that was not her. He fought the urge to turn around and follow her, indulge some fantasy of romance. He thought of the step he almost took and ducked into the nearest bar. The bartender made him a drink he could barely taste but it rendered his thoughts fuzzy for a good five minutes. He sat at the black counter and stared at the shiny, oblivious, passing people. He turned back to the bartender for another drink but caught his reflection.

It wasn't the fact that he wanted to see her. He did. It was the fact that he would have walked into oncoming traffic and suffered horribly before exposing himself because he wanted to see her. The emotion practically made him unrecognizable. Who was this asshole wearing shades in a dark bar and covered in day old scruff? Who was this piece of shit that tucked his sunglasses into his shirt pocket and ran a hand over his face as if someone just whispered the sky had fallen?

Damon left a fifty for the bartender, lit another cigarette, and joined the parade of passing people. Every step he took, her name rang out in his head. He strolled through Central Park, preferring diversion to efficiency, and thought she might like this place, this carved out section of manicured nature crawling with every kind of person. She'd be so serious and then, maybe, a street performance would happen to entrance her and put that damn grin on her face. He emerged from the Park not thinking of her as she was, but as she could be with him, free from supernatural bondage. He blinked at Midtown, dizzying in its bustle.

It didn't take long to reach Penn Station. He booked a seat on the last train to Richmond. Ticket in hand, he sat in a restaurant and watched the time slip by while drinking coffee. Stefan talked his ear off about it being an appetite suppressor but hell if he didn't want some hot blood poured down his throat.

A woman with red, red lips and platinum blonde hair settled at the table across from him. They made eye contact and there was a jolt of sexual energy. She wore a red print dress that was too short. Every time she crossed her legs he saw a flash of pale skin and black lace. At one point, she left her legs apart for a full ten seconds. Damon drank the rest of his coffee and got up to go to the restroom. Her eyes stuck to his back. He glanced at her once. That was all it took. One glance.

He fucked her in one of the men's stalls. It was quick and hard and only felt good the minute before and after he fed on her. He came out of obligation, made a lot of grunting noises as he licked the bite clean. She was wobbly so he brought her a sandwich and kept her company until she had to go. She slipped him her card with a wink. He held the card until she disappeared. It went the way of the coffee and sandwich wrapper.

The interlude ate up enough time to cause him to sprint to catch his train. He slid into his seat and gazed out the window as the train pulled from the station. He saw himself in the glass, interlaced with the darkness of the tunnel and the amber glow of lights, and the last time he kissed someone and meant it came to mind. The memory paralyzed him for the rest of the journey home.

Damon walked through the door minutes to twelve. He had hoped to arrive before the storm but the rain and lashing wind caught him. He heard Stefan tinkering in his room and went into the great room to dry off. Stefan materialized a few minutes afterwards. They sat together before the fireplace.

"You're dripping on the rug," Stefan said.

The customary quip died on his tongue. He glanced at Stefan then at the fire.

"How many times can a compulsive romantic get rejected before he gives up?"

Stefan furrowed his brow in mock concentration. "Twice. Third time is the charm. Or so they say."

"I didn't think there was anything worse than losing Katherine. And to you no less. Then came Elena, and history repeats. And now…" Damon sighed. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Damon stared into the heart of the fire. Stefan would be the ideal person to purge upon save for one little truth—they were brothers who kept falling in love with the same girl. He didn't want to curse himself.

"No."

Damon stood up. "I'm going to bed."

"Wait," Stefan called. Damon turned back. "We don't have to talk about it. Or her. Or anything."

Damon smiled. "I appreciate the gesture, Stef. I really do, but I left my mani pedi kit in New York and we don't have enough froyo to make it through _An Affair to Remember_—"

"Goodnight asshole."

"Goodnight idiot."

* * *

Sunday

They rode their parents' old bikes around the neighborhood. Three girls on vintage roadsters of fire red, powder blue, and forest green, loose hair blowing back in the breeze. Their laughter and voices rustled but did not disturb the softness of Sunday in a small town. They stopped at the new yogurt bar and stood on the sidewalk eating and talking about regular things. They didn't even need to make a rule of it—the conversation never touched upon vampires or werewolves or witchcraft.

They circled round and round the gazebo on Main, then raced to Wickery Bridge. Caroline won, naturally. They parked the bikes against the old railing and leaned on the new steel barricade. The water was black and choppy. Elena put her back to the water. Caroline hopped back and forth like some small bird. Bonnie stared down at the river. The water rushed and she floated away from talk of weekend plans.

"And then Bonnie told me she had this absolutely filthy sex dream about Damon. I mean, Elena, it was practically the outline for some skin-a-max double feature. Apparently, Bonnie has a thing for swings."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "You would know about getting filthy with Damon."

Elena laughed. Caroline tossed her hair. "I do know. And while he was and still is a massive douchebag, he was not bad. In fact, he ranks in my top five."

"God," Elena groaned, "and this was such a pleasant day."

"Speaking of rankings," Caroline slanted her eyes at Bonnie, "what's going on with you?"

"With me what?"

"Any prospects?"

"None."

Elena chimed in. "Not one?"

Bonnie threw her a quick glare. "Not one."

Caroline glanced at the two of them. "Hold the front door, what the hell was that? You two shared a look."

Bonnie and Elena looked at her. Caroline shook her head. "No, don't give _me_ the crazy eyes. I saw a look. A look that said, 'I know something, we both know something and we're going to keep it from Caroline,' which is cruel and a little hurtful considering we are the three muskrats."

"Musketeers," they mumbled.

"You know what I mean," Caroline said. She glared at Elena, then at Bonnie. Bonnie sighed.

"Can't we leave boys out of it for at least six hours?"

"No."

Bonnie pushed back against the railing. "Fine, there's a guy…"

Caroline squealed. "I knew it! Okay, okay, give me the blind item first."

"Well, I didn't much care for him at first. But then he helped me out a few times without even needing to, and we got to talking and going out for dinner and walks. He's really, incredibly attractive too, so that's a nice bonus. And he has this sweet car—"

"Alright! If I were still alive the suspense would kill me. Who is this guy and why didn't I spot him first?"

Elena raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, who is this guy?"

Bonnie put on her best shy grin. "This is weird, but…I've been talking to Jeremy."

The silence was a bomb. Caroline dropped open her mouth and her eyes bulged and her hands were in a frozen state of exclamation. Elena frowned and worked her lips for a moment before clamping them shut.

"What!" Caroline screeched and launched herself at Bonnie. She winked at Elena over Caroline's shoulder. Elena shook her head as a rueful grin lightened her face.

"So I need details," Caroline said. Bonnie placed a hand on her arm.

"I don't know how to break this to you, but I was kidding. There is no guy in my life and I don't foresee one in the immediate future. And I am, by the way, clairvoyant."

Caroline was crestfallen for all of five seconds. "We'll remedy that come the middle of fall. All those dances, plus the events—I have a mission, and I will not be deterred."

"Do you hear that Bonnie? That means you'll have to drag yourself to five more dances in addition to the fifteen hundred we have to attend annually."

"Shut up Miss-I-Have-A-Boyfriend-And-He's-Cooler-Than-Edward."

"Who's Edward?"

"Bonnie! Will you please re-enter this century. Elena, you deal with this, I can't—I just—ugh."

The three girls retrieved their bikes and pedaled down the road to the intersection. They went their separate ways after making plans for dinner at Caroline's house. Bonnie waved them off and waited until they disappeared to journey over the Wickery Bridge, to Gram's.

Bonnie found Akiri in the garden. There were bunches of carrots, parsnips, herbs, shallots, and fingerling potatoes in her lap. She looked up as Bonnie laid her bike against the tool shed. Akiri beckoned her over to show her what needed gathering. Spinach, cassava, sweet potatoes, peanuts, cucumbers, strawberries, blackberries.

Bonnie took a basket and went to the strawberry patch. She knelt before the patch and picked a strawberry. It was bright red and fragrant. She popped it in her mouth. Sweetness exploded along her tongue. Summer days and easier times came to mind as she snacked on suddenly ripe strawberries.

"Thinking of better times?"

Akiri knelt beside her. Bonnie ate one last strawberry before placing the rest in the basket.

"I'm too young to reminisce, right?"

"No. You have seen and done much for one so young. When I was your age, my only worries were about marriage and love and how incompatible were the two concepts."

Akiri lifted her face into the sun. A grin smoothed the worries from her face. "I met Joshua at the end of a summer such as this. He was a tinker by trade, made odd little wind-up toys for the children of employers. He made one for me, a copper sun that grew and shrunk as it rotated."

Bonnie watched her face as Akiri sunk into memory. It would always be the same. A rapturous glow suffused her skin. It made her stunning. Then it would fade, the sudden grief sharpening her features until Bonnie recognized her again.

"I never want to love like that," Bonnie said.

Akiri brushed at her eyes before fixing them on Bonnie. "To love like what?"

"I don't know," Bonnie filled the rest of the basket, "to love beyond the limits of nature, beyond the limits of yourself."

Bonnie shifted back onto her heels. She thought of Damon and that night by the tomb.

"How likely is it that you'll succeed?"

Akiri lifted a shoulder. "I cannot say. It has never been done before. But that does not prevent me from attempting."

"It will take all of our power," Bonnie said. She glanced at Akiri.

"Yes," Akiri said, "mine."

"The witches will kill you the moment nature abandons you."

Akiri stopped turning the soil. Moist earth covered her hands. Bonnie frowned. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"The witches may kill me," Akiri said, "but their judgment would not last long unpunished. I have endured too much for too long to be deterred, Bonnie. And you too," she looked at Bonnie, "you too have been tested, made to bear much more than a young woman of your age should. Do not forget who has caused you pain. Do not muddle a brief instance of passion with your convictions."

Bonnie ducked her head. Heat radiated off her cheeks. Akiri exposed her without even a glance. She valued being unreadable, especially where Akiri and Damon were concerned, but her idiot feelings left her wide open. No, that was wrong. Akiri didn't know any more than what she wanted to or what Bonnie volunteered. It was Damon. He affected her in ways that made her as vulnerable as an open wound. Akiri only had to allude to him and Bonnie felt his nearness, felt that persistent torridity, remembered his kiss and his voice and all the actions he never had to commit but he did, for her.

But then the clouds rolled in. Damon came into town and brought vampirism. He brought ruin. His obsession turned Grams into a martyr. He had a nasty habit of making a mess and forcing others to clean up after him. He loved badly and with too much intensity. He was a liability she couldn't afford. Bonnie had learned only one way to deal with liabilities—eliminate them.

Bonnie left as dusk approached. She rode her bicycle over Wickery Bridge and down to the cemetery. A bouquet of wildflowers, lavender, and persimmon filled the bicycle basket. She parked her bike near the front gate and slipped through the wrought iron. The cut green grass whispered as she crossed the graveyard. Grams' headstone was simple black marble set in the ground. An oak tree provided constant shade. Bonnie knelt and spread the bouquet around the headstone. She stood there for a couple of minutes. Her mind went blank. She burned the lavender and left the smoking plant nestled on the black marble.

On her way to the entrance she spotted Damon. It was his back, but she knew it was him. He had a bottle in his hand. She stared at his back, slid her eyes up to the top his head down to the back of his heels. A hot wind blew into her face, fragranced with blood and alcohol and peppermint. She hesitated, stepped towards him, then turned. She hurried to her bike and pedaled fast towards Elena's house. The wind slicked her tears away.


End file.
